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 Hungary and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes 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 FM Einheit to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Outsiders. All the underground hits.
All Black Sheep tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Livin' Joy 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Depeche Mode record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
The Walker Brothers,
The Stooges,
Model 500,
CMW,
Joyce Sims,
The Remains,
June of 44,
Roxette,
Shoche,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bluetip,
Electric Prunes,
Icehouse,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sun City Girls,
Alison Limerick,
Maurizio,
The Motions,
Subhumans,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Grass Roots,
Mr. Review,
Thee Headcoats,
Suburban Knight,
The Doobie Brothers,
Thompson Twins,
The Golliwogs,
Swell Maps,
Khruangbin,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Kas Product,
the Sonics,
Soft Machine,
Jeru the Damaja,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
cv313,
Barrington Levy,
Malaria!,
Donny Hathaway,
Stiv Bators,
Rosa Yemen,
Max Romeo,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Zeros,
The Fortunes,
Kurtis Blow,
T. Rex,
Pere Ubu,
Peter and Kerry,
Iggy Pop,
Pierre Henry,
Bobby Womack,
Todd Terry,
Brothers Johnson,
Mark Hollis,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Colin Newman,
The Offenders,
Tomorrow,
Jandek, Jandek, Jandek, Jandek.
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.