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 Slovenia and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 mellotron 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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. All the underground hits.
All Reagan Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
E-Dancer,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Martian,
The Wake,
the Human League,
Alton Ellis,
Amon Düül,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Lower 48,
John Cale,
Second Layer,
Amazonics,
Cymande,
The Names,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Kenny Larkin,
Nik Kershaw,
Dead Boys,
Audionom,
Silicon Teens,
Tears for Fears,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ludus,
Pierre Henry,
Wire,
Nick Fraelich,
Man Parrish,
Al Stewart,
The Walker Brothers,
Wolf Eyes,
The Modern Lovers,
The Misunderstood,
Tubeway Army,
Echospace,
The Beau Brummels,
Henry Cow,
Marmalade,
Soul Sonic Force,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rakim,
Aswad,
the Fania All-Stars,
Altered Images,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Smiths,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Gladiators,
Cecil Taylor,
Lalann,
Ohio Players,
Deakin,
The Doobie Brothers,
Gang Gang Dance,
Roy Ayers,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Barry Ungar,
Robert Görl,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ultravox, Ultravox, Ultravox, Ultravox.
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.