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 Pakistan and from Tokyo.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark to the grime 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 Ronnie Foster. All the underground hits.
All Pulsallama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool Moe Dee record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pole record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swans,
Sparks,
Rekid,
Matthew Bourne,
Eve St. Jones,
Bad Manners,
cv313,
The Fall,
Skriet,
The Cowsills,
The Gap Band,
Soulsonic Force,
L. Decosne,
Lou Reed,
The Mojo Men,
Youth Brigade,
Crispy Ambulance,
UT,
Gang of Four,
Jimmy McGriff,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Dead Boys,
Intrusion,
Donald Byrd,
Hot Snakes,
The Monks,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Residents,
Sexual Harrassment,
Yellowson,
Eddi Front,
Mark Hollis,
Moby Grape,
Barrington Levy,
a-ha,
Das Ding,
Q65,
Hasil Adkins,
Lower 48,
Faust,
Mission of Burma,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Liliput,
Slick Rick,
Scratch Acid,
Japan,
Grandmaster Flash,
Pantytec,
Reagan Youth,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Gladiators,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Litter,
Bill Near,
Reuben Wilson,
Camberwell Now,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Mandrill,
Tubeway Army,
Motorama,
Jesper Dahlback,
Connie Case,
A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio.
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.