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 Kiribati and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 New Age Steppers to the jazz 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 kango's stein massive. All the underground hits.
All H. Thieme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Certain Ratio 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 synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
CMW,
The Fall,
Bobby Sherman,
The Divine Comedy,
Ultravox,
The Sound,
Section 25,
The Gladiators,
Subhumans,
Monks,
DJ Style,
Symarip,
Second Layer,
Roy Ayers,
Sound Behaviour,
Pole,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sight & Sound,
Con Funk Shun,
The Shadows of Knight,
Maurizio,
Supertramp,
The Pretty Things,
The Names,
Babytalk,
Yellowson,
The Searchers,
Swell Maps,
Youth Brigade,
Eric B and Rakim,
Nirvana,
The Happenings,
Dead Boys,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sonic Youth,
Barclay James Harvest,
Skarface,
Laurel Aitken,
Crispy Ambulance,
Fluxion,
Malaria!,
Pussy Galore,
Panda Bear,
Suburban Knight,
Slick Rick,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lebanon Hanover,
Man Parrish,
Matthew Bourne,
The Move,
Sällskapet,
Chris Corsano,
Ornette Coleman,
ABBA,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Whodini,
Motorama,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Pet Shop Boys,
X-102, X-102, X-102, X-102.
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.