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 Tonga and from Bologna.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All Bang On A Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Walker Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Cale,
June Days,
John Coltrane,
Eddi Front,
Alice Coltrane,
Technova,
The Index,
Supertramp,
Lyres,
DJ Sneak,
Monks,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Byron Stingily,
Johnny Osbourne,
Boz Scaggs,
The Fire Engines,
Adolescents,
CMW,
The Angels of Light,
Country Teasers,
Joyce Sims,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Gladiators,
Oblivians,
The Music Machine,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Golliwogs,
10cc,
Gang Gang Dance,
Pierre Henry,
One Last Wish,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Zeros,
Tomorrow,
Qualms,
Eurythmics,
Fad Gadget,
AZ,
Dave Gahan,
The Mojo Men,
Quadrant,
The Young Rascals,
JFA,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Flipper,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bootsy Collins,
Arab on Radar,
The Modern Lovers,
The Toasters,
Judy Mowatt,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Pantytec,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Tom Boy,
Sight & Sound,
Rites of Spring,
Yaz,
Brass Construction,
The Trojans,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme.
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.