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 Poland and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Gang Gang Dance to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Camouflage. All the underground hits.
All The Busters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Symarip record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Laurel Aitken record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
John Holt,
Deakin,
Lightning Bolt,
Carl Craig,
One Last Wish,
Fela Kuti,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Todd Rundgren,
Bill Near,
Iggy Pop,
Cheater Slicks,
Bad Manners,
The Electric Prunes,
Lower 48,
Franke,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Aural Exciters,
Guru Guru,
Barbara Tucker,
Soft Machine,
Brass Construction,
The Dirtbombs,
the Slits,
the Fania All-Stars,
Barry Ungar,
The Offenders,
Youth Brigade,
The Happenings,
Maurizio,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Altered Images,
The Cramps,
Heaven 17,
London Community Gospel Choir,
the Normal,
Flash Fearless,
Unwound,
Zero Boys,
Public Enemy,
Neil Young,
Bobby Sherman,
Gang of Four,
Audionom,
The Angels of Light,
The Cure,
Simply Red,
Eddi Front,
The Zeros,
Scan 7,
Scion,
Oblivians,
The Fire Engines,
Boogie Down Productions,
JFA,
Soft Cell,
Unrelated Segments,
Masters at Work,
Parry Music,
Brand Nubian,
New York Dolls,
Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs.
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.