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 Sweden and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Kinks to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Tropical Tobacco. All the underground hits.
All Altered Images tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swell Maps record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Shuggie Otis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Infiniti,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Mandrill,
Robert Hood,
Japan,
Chris & Cosey,
Bronski Beat,
Kaleidoscope,
Gastr Del Sol,
Erasure,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Janne Schatter,
Faust,
Fatback Band,
This Heat,
Susan Cadogan,
Duran Duran,
Nirvana,
Interpol,
Reagan Youth,
The Litter,
Delta 5,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Iggy Pop,
Fela Kuti,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Joyce Sims,
Skarface,
Malaria!,
Maleditus Sound,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Television,
Sex Pistols,
Roxy Music,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Desert Stars,
Tropical Tobacco,
48th St. Collective,
ABBA,
the Normal,
Moebius,
Monolake,
Electric Prunes,
The Angels of Light,
The Birthday Party,
Eric B and Rakim,
Tubeway Army,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Neil Young,
Albert Ayler,
Al Stewart,
Shoche,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
F. McDonald,
Barclay James Harvest,
Soft Machine,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare.
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.