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 Ireland and from Delhi.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bobby Byrd to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Matthew Halsall. All the underground hits.
All Inner City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Graham Central Station record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Piero Umiliani,
Malaria!,
Au Pairs,
Scan 7,
Gastr Del Sol,
Derrick May,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
MC5,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Fuzztones,
Neu!,
Clear Light,
Young Marble Giants,
Magma,
Cheater Slicks,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
John Cale,
T. Rex,
Minny Pops,
Camouflage,
Bad Manners,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Darondo,
Average White Band,
Technova,
China Crisis,
Ice-T,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Aloha Tigers,
Hoover,
Supertramp,
Fat Boys,
Brass Construction,
Nirvana,
Roxy Music,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Wire,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Mark Hollis,
Crash Course in Science,
Joe Smooth,
Groovy Waters,
David Bowie,
Talk Talk,
Spandau Ballet,
The Martian,
Nick Fraelich,
The Music Machine,
Jerry's Kids,
Ultravox,
Cluster,
kango's stein massive,
The Pretty Things,
Sandy B,
Essential Logic,
The Walker Brothers,
Public Enemy,
The Smiths,
the Association,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Reuben Wilson,
Erasure, Erasure, Erasure, Erasure.
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.