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 Cyprus and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Matthew Halsall to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Skatalites. All the underground hits.
All Hoover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mad Mike record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lightning Bolt,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Crash Course in Science,
Faraquet,
Erasure,
The Slits,
Moby Grape,
Howard Jones,
Depeche Mode,
Nirvana,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
OOIOO,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Arthur Verocai,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Byron Stingily,
Anakelly,
Qualms,
Sound Behaviour,
Alphaville,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
cv313,
Franke,
Wally Richardson,
Marine Girls,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Unwound,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Fad Gadget,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Yazoo,
MC5,
Q and Not U,
Gregory Isaacs,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
New Order,
Whodini,
Banda Bassotti,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Derrick Morgan,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rhythm & Sound,
Mo-Dettes,
Wire,
Fela Kuti,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Victims,
DJ Sneak,
The Walker Brothers,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Gerry Rafferty,
Andrew Hill,
Hoover,
Visage,
Arab on Radar,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
John Holt,
Barrington Levy,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Public Enemy,
The Real Kids,
Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms.
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.