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 Thailand and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Michelle Simonal to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Doobie Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Tremeloes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siglo XX,
Young Marble Giants,
Rod Modell,
Japan,
Susan Cadogan,
Rotary Connection,
John Lydon,
Michelle Simonal,
The Stooges,
The Remains,
The Real Kids,
Carl Craig,
Basic Channel,
Lou Reed,
Joe Finger,
Fat Boys,
Prince Buster,
Sexual Harrassment,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bizarre Inc.,
Black Sheep,
The Sonics,
The Offenders,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Steve Hackett,
Chris Corsano,
Metal Thangz,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Five Americans,
Stetsasonic,
Bobby Byrd,
The Names,
The Wake,
New York Dolls,
Banda Bassotti,
Gang Gang Dance,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Mojo Men,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Dark Day,
La Düsseldorf,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sugar Minott,
The Human League,
Monolake,
Pylon,
Lalann,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Animal Collective,
The Gap Band,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Matthew Bourne,
X-Ray Spex,
Junior Murvin,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues.
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.