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 East Timor and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 marimba 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 Fuzztones to the techno 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 Depeche Mode. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Bourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool Moe Dee 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 theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Graham Central Station,
PIL,
Severed Heads,
Roxette,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Aswad,
Hashim,
Smog,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
June of 44,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ronan,
Cecil Taylor,
Little Man,
Charles Mingus,
Kaleidoscope,
Popol Vuh,
Franke,
The Gories,
Lebanon Hanover,
Trumans Water,
Dave Gahan,
Hasil Adkins,
Panda Bear,
Altered Images,
The Pop Group,
Scratch Acid,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Drive Like Jehu,
Japan,
Prince Buster,
Magma,
Juan Atkins,
The Red Krayola,
Jacques Brel,
La Düsseldorf,
Bobby Sherman,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Tubeway Army,
Public Enemy,
Thompson Twins,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Big Daddy Kane,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Alarm Clocks,
Flash Fearless,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Human League,
Pagans,
Delon & Dalcan,
Fugazi,
Henry Cow,
The Mummies,
Mandrill,
Man Parrish,
Qualms,
Alice Coltrane,
The Busters,
Donny Hathaway,
The Stooges,
Excepter,
Massinfluence,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.