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 St Lucia and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the sitar 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 Magazine to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Symarip. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacques Brel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
Ituana,
The Cosmic Jokers,
H. Thieme,
The Selecter,
Radiopuhelimet,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
New Order,
Half Japanese,
Angry Samoans,
Pagans,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Tres Demented,
Tears for Fears,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Gang Starr,
X-102,
Crime,
Kas Product,
Deakin,
Sexual Harrassment,
Second Layer,
Matthew Halsall,
The Move,
Pole,
Depeche Mode,
Pet Shop Boys,
Jawbox,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ralphi Rosario,
Marshall Jefferson,
Terrestrial Tones,
Heaven 17,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bang On A Can,
Spandau Ballet,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Busters,
Kool Moe Dee,
Kayak,
Big Daddy Kane,
Swell Maps,
Mr. Review,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Minnie Riperton,
The Evens,
Lakeside,
Skarface,
Ponytail,
Rod Modell,
Robert Görl,
Icehouse,
Max Romeo,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Detroit Cobras,
Dorothy Ashby,
Agent Orange,
Crash Course in Science,
Maleditus Sound,
Crispian St. Peters,
Neu!,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Seeds,
Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback.
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.