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 Niger and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Pop Group to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Suicide. All the underground hits.
All Bang on a Can All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joy Division record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barclay James Harvest record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moebius,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Duran Duran,
Gang Green,
These Immortal Souls,
Radio Birdman,
Boz Scaggs,
Groovy Waters,
Radiohead,
Blancmange,
Tropical Tobacco,
Joy Division,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Scrapy,
Sällskapet,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Hot Snakes,
Mars,
Kerri Chandler,
the Sonics,
The Young Rascals,
Warren Ellis,
Liliput,
Delta 5,
The Motions,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Stetsasonic,
Sex Pistols,
Mission of Burma,
The Fall,
Arcadia,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tears for Fears,
Isaac Hayes,
Sound Behaviour,
Josef K,
Rites of Spring,
Bill Near,
Althea and Donna,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Television,
Lower 48,
Pylon,
Nico,
Eli Mardock,
The Dirtbombs,
Barrington Levy,
Erykah Badu,
The Vogues,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Neon Judgement,
Loose Ends,
Gong,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Star Department,
Lucky Dragons,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Selecter,
Lindisfarne,
Accadde A,
Johnny Osbourne,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.