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 Senegal and from Bremen.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Parry Music to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Eli Mardock. All the underground hits.
All Depeche Mode tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Unrelated Segments,
Deadbeat,
Suicide,
Buzzcocks,
Eli Mardock,
John Cale,
Swans,
Ultravox,
Can,
Derrick May,
Model 500,
the Human League,
Minor Threat,
Graham Central Station,
Los Fastidios,
X-Ray Spex,
Radio Birdman,
Max Romeo,
Wire,
DJ Sneak,
Leonard Cohen,
The Electric Prunes,
Letta Mbulu,
Roy Ayers,
Moss Icon,
Aswad,
Brass Construction,
Kool Moe Dee,
Radiopuhelimet,
Television,
Dave Gahan,
Essential Logic,
E-Dancer,
June Days,
Joe Finger,
Camberwell Now,
The Doobie Brothers,
Barry Ungar,
Eric Copeland,
Glenn Branca,
Lou Reed,
Cymande,
Harmonia,
Intrusion,
Au Pairs,
Crime,
The Cowsills,
Masters at Work,
The Gladiators,
Laurel Aitken,
Ultra Naté,
Bang On A Can,
Terrestrial Tones,
Big Daddy Kane,
Mr. Review,
The Golliwogs,
Sister Nancy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Moby Grape,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Althea and Donna,
The Cramps,
F. McDonald,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.