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 Tanzania and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
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 Maleditus Sound to the funk 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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Knickerbockers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
The Star Department,
Smog,
H. Thieme,
Robert Wyatt,
Michelle Simonal,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Alison Limerick,
Silicon Teens,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Tres Demented,
Dark Day,
Albert Ayler,
Harpers Bizarre,
8 Eyed Spy,
Yusef Lateef,
Soft Cell,
Wally Richardson,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Associates,
Jandek,
Black Pus,
Eve St. Jones,
Agent Orange,
Interpol,
The Golliwogs,
Fear,
Kevin Saunderson,
Harry Pussy,
The Index,
Neu!,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
June of 44,
Adolescents,
Nils Olav,
Ronnie Foster,
The Beau Brummels,
T.S.O.L.,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Japan,
Avey Tare,
The Walker Brothers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Cowsills,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Lebanon Hanover,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Crispy Ambulance,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Boredoms,
John Holt,
The Gories,
Marmalade,
Suburban Knight,
Pere Ubu,
Fad Gadget,
The Toasters,
F. McDonald,
The Slackers,
Vladislav Delay,
The Fuzztones,
E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer.
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.