Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Qatar and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Jesper Dahlbäck to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Can. All the underground hits.
All Marmalade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amazonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
The Count Five,
The Sonics,
Slick Rick,
Charles Mingus,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Birthday Party,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Wake,
Glambeats Corp.,
Mr. Review,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Aswad,
The Saints,
Qualms,
June Days,
Kenny Larkin,
Main Source,
The American Breed,
Tim Buckley,
Marine Girls,
Robert Hood,
Kurtis Blow,
Von Mondo,
Hasil Adkins,
Harry Pussy,
Kas Product,
the Fania All-Stars,
B.T. Express,
Mars,
Sällskapet,
Sandy B,
Crispy Ambulance,
Isaac Hayes,
Urselle,
Ronan,
Andrew Hill,
The Monochrome Set,
Harpers Bizarre,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bang On A Can,
Joyce Sims,
Electric Prunes,
The Evens,
Gichy Dan,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The United States of America,
The Skatalites,
Fluxion,
Neil Young,
T. Rex,
The J.B.'s,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Marvin Gaye,
Soft Cell,
Procol Harum,
X-101,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
X-Ray Spex,
Minutemen,
Cymande,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.