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 Guinea-Bissau and from Salvador.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Durutti Column 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 Lalann. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monochrome Set record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a E-Dancer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pop Group,
Nick Fraelich,
Au Pairs,
Peter and Kerry,
The Red Krayola,
Stockholm Monsters,
Nik Kershaw,
Jeff Mills,
X-Ray Spex,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Alarm Clocks,
Josef K,
Vainqueur,
Anakelly,
Joe Smooth,
The Stooges,
Alison Limerick,
Nico,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Rufus Thomas,
Robert Görl,
Isaac Hayes,
Guru Guru,
Mo-Dettes,
The Shadows of Knight,
Agitation Free,
Pierre Henry,
Lindisfarne,
Roy Ayers,
Joy Division,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Marmalade,
The Gories,
Loose Ends,
Johnny Clarke,
Scrapy,
Judy Mowatt,
Peter & Gordon,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ultra Naté,
Michelle Simonal,
Robert Wyatt,
Derrick Morgan,
Half Japanese,
UT,
Carl Craig,
The Fortunes,
Moebius,
Cheater Slicks,
Warren Ellis,
Danielle Patucci,
Hasil Adkins,
Johnny Osbourne,
OOIOO,
F. McDonald,
Magma,
Thee Headcoats,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Selecter,
Don Cherry,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Morten Harket,
The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy.
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.