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 Philippines and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 H. Thieme to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Harmonia. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry Gold Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
The Electric Prunes,
Black Bananas,
The Barracudas,
Q65,
Pussy Galore,
Crispian St. Peters,
T. Rex,
Darondo,
The Dave Clark Five,
the Fania All-Stars,
Harpers Bizarre,
Leonard Cohen,
Rufus Thomas,
Infiniti,
Shuggie Otis,
Connie Case,
Cybotron,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Toasters,
Gang of Four,
Panda Bear,
Eddi Front,
The Mojo Men,
the Slits,
Rod Modell,
Theoretical Girls,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Tremeloes,
Isaac Hayes,
the Normal,
Charles Mingus,
Susan Cadogan,
These Immortal Souls,
FM Einheit,
The Techniques,
Maleditus Sound,
The Pop Group,
Scott Walker,
Jawbox,
Ituana,
China Crisis,
Bob Dylan,
Dawn Penn,
The Litter,
Zapp,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Arthur Verocai,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Scion,
The Stooges,
The Real Kids,
The Index,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Vogues,
Arcadia,
The Divine Comedy,
Anakelly,
Bizarre Inc.,
Neil Young,
Scan 7,
Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins.
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.