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 Cameroon and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the punk 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 Jesper Dahlback. All the underground hits.
All FM Einheit tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amon Düül 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moby Grape record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bad Manners,
Wally Richardson,
Barbara Tucker,
Jeru the Damaja,
Jeff Lynne,
Surgeon,
T. Rex,
Heaven 17,
Sarah Menescal,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Tropical Tobacco,
Black Flag,
Scion,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Moleskins,
The Associates,
Sällskapet,
The Grass Roots,
Nils Olav,
Lalo Schifrin,
Jacob Miller,
Rotary Connection,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Bobby Byrd,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Harpers Bizarre,
Alphaville,
LL Cool J,
Josef K,
The Smiths,
Swans,
the Bar-Kays,
Royal Trux,
The Neon Judgement,
the Sonics,
The American Breed,
Gang of Four,
Dark Day,
Archie Shepp,
Lower 48,
E-Dancer,
Ken Boothe,
Eve St. Jones,
Quantec,
Quadrant,
Basic Channel,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Funky Four + One,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Human League,
Joyce Sims,
Technova,
Simply Red,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Bootsy Collins,
Gong,
Mo-Dettes,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Erykah Badu,
JFA,
Alice Coltrane,
David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie.
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.