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 Paraguay and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 grunge 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 Pulsallama. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Bar-Kays 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Matthew Halsall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABC,
Bill Near,
Mr. Review,
The Smoke,
Bush Tetras,
Joe Finger,
Fluxion,
Skriet,
Make Up,
Mandrill,
The Sonics,
Girls At Our Best!,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Nils Olav,
Quando Quango,
a-ha,
Don Cherry,
the Bar-Kays,
Gabor Szabo,
Rotary Connection,
Gastr Del Sol,
Anakelly,
Oblivians,
Donny Hathaway,
The Misunderstood,
Gregory Isaacs,
Visage,
Boogie Down Productions,
John Cale,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sam Rivers,
Marvin Gaye,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Blossom Toes,
Jerry's Kids,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Cybotron,
The Cramps,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Funky Four + One,
The Knickerbockers,
Skaos,
Ossler,
Curtis Mayfield,
Roxette,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
X-Ray Spex,
The Monochrome Set,
Tears for Fears,
Dark Day,
Q65,
Freddie Wadling,
Rakim,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Chris & Cosey,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pharoah Sanders,
Stiv Bators,
Nik Kershaw,
Robert Görl,
The Slackers,
E-Dancer,
Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach.
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.