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 Samoa and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the electroclash 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 Das Ding. All the underground hits.
All Wally Richardson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar 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?
Tubeway Army,
10cc,
Flamin' Groovies,
Niagra,
Kenny Larkin,
Suicide,
Nick Fraelich,
Rotary Connection,
Bobby Sherman,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The American Breed,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Funky Four + One,
Dual Sessions,
Masters at Work,
Arab on Radar,
David McCallum,
Newcleus,
Supertramp,
Harpers Bizarre,
Half Japanese,
Moby Grape,
Sex Pistols,
Joensuu 1685,
Warsaw,
Jacob Miller,
Sound Behaviour,
Susan Cadogan,
John Foxx,
June Days,
Symarip,
Max Romeo,
Gichy Dan,
This Heat,
Charles Mingus,
Youth Brigade,
Cecil Taylor,
Organ,
Warren Ellis,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
DJ Sneak,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Anakelly,
DJ Style,
Make Up,
Wings,
June of 44,
Monks,
Lalann,
Lebanon Hanover,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Swell Maps,
Kerri Chandler,
Donny Hathaway,
Tomorrow,
Todd Terry,
Y Pants,
Soulsonic Force,
Easy Going,
Bush Tetras,
Janne Schatter,
Deakin,
Peter & Gordon, Peter & Gordon, Peter & Gordon, Peter & Gordon.
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.