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 Sweden and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 the Bar-Kays to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Zeros. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liaisons Dangereuses 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harpers Bizarre record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Charles Mingus,
Mars,
The Modern Lovers,
Alison Limerick,
The Red Krayola,
Livin' Joy,
Sällskapet,
Lebanon Hanover,
Eric Dolphy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Absolute Body Control,
Excepter,
Theoretical Girls,
Nils Olav,
Agitation Free,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Smoke,
Swell Maps,
Funkadelic,
Nick Fraelich,
Pantytec,
Oblivians,
10cc,
Black Moon,
The Fugs,
Al Stewart,
The Electric Prunes,
Ornette Coleman,
Dennis Brown,
Wally Richardson,
Talk Talk,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Soft Cell,
The Golliwogs,
The Moleskins,
Alphaville,
Monolake,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Shadows of Knight,
Yaz,
Tres Demented,
Masters at Work,
In Retrospect,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Country Teasers,
Fugazi,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Rekid,
The Beau Brummels,
PIL,
The Human League,
Kas Product,
Letta Mbulu,
Rapeman,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bluetip,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Scrapy,
Ultimate Spinach,
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.