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 Morocco and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 T.S.O.L. to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Masters at Work. All the underground hits.
All Roxette tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
Kenny Larkin,
Howard Jones,
The Star Department,
Soul II Soul,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Kayak,
Newcleus,
Erasure,
Los Fastidios,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Goldenarms,
Theoretical Girls,
Black Bananas,
Sun Ra,
H. Thieme,
Davy DMX,
Skaos,
Pantaleimon,
Inner City,
Gong,
Surgeon,
The Doobie Brothers,
Steve Hackett,
Jeff Lynne,
The Victims,
Anakelly,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Invisible,
Organ,
UT,
Charles Mingus,
Lindisfarne,
Lucky Dragons,
Brick,
Marine Girls,
Stiv Bators,
Interpol,
Alton Ellis,
Hasil Adkins,
Eric Copeland,
Chrome,
David Axelrod,
The Barracudas,
Black Pus,
The Dirtbombs,
Country Teasers,
The New Christs,
kango's stein massive,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Massinfluence,
Rosa Yemen,
Scan 7,
Cheater Slicks,
The Mojo Men,
Smog,
Absolute Body Control,
the Association,
Ten City,
James White and The Blacks,
Kevin Saunderson,
Michelle Simonal,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.