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 Ghana and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Gian Franco Pienzio to the rap 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 The Alarm Clocks. All the underground hits.
All Todd Rundgren tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Intrusion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Little Man record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
Technova,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Dirtbombs,
Electric Prunes,
Altered Images,
Suburban Knight,
Fear,
The Gories,
Pole,
Bush Tetras,
Public Image Ltd.,
Ultimate Spinach,
Pagans,
Niagra,
Jeff Lynne,
Letta Mbulu,
Lower 48,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Babytalk,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
T.S.O.L.,
Shoche,
Swans,
the Normal,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Toni Rubio,
Lightning Bolt,
The Move,
Joey Negro,
kango's stein massive,
Cecil Taylor,
Bob Dylan,
Sixth Finger,
Sarah Menescal,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Robert Görl,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Roxette,
Jacob Miller,
Echospace,
Hot Snakes,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
One Last Wish,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Mad Mike,
Gregory Isaacs,
Rufus Thomas,
The Dead C,
Eli Mardock,
Yazoo,
Lou Reed,
Soft Cell,
Procol Harum,
The Five Americans,
Tommy Roe,
Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon.
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.