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 Dominican Republic and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Buckinghams to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Dennis Brown. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Osbourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy Collins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arthur Verocai record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Victims,
Tommy Roe,
Arab on Radar,
The Fuzztones,
Deepchord,
EPMD,
Kevin Saunderson,
the Association,
AZ,
Main Source,
Donald Byrd,
Throbbing Gristle,
Television,
Roxette,
The Cure,
Radio Birdman,
Blake Baxter,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Suburban Knight,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Offenders,
Skaos,
China Crisis,
H. Thieme,
Masters at Work,
The Martian,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sex Pistols,
K-Klass,
10cc,
Radiohead,
Marshall Jefferson,
Mars,
Max Romeo,
Dennis Brown,
The Litter,
Guru Guru,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Chris & Cosey,
Duran Duran,
Jeff Mills,
ABBA,
Henry Cow,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
One Last Wish,
Motorama,
Desert Stars,
Bill Near,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lindisfarne,
The Gun Club,
DJ Sneak,
Ronnie Foster,
Basic Channel,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Rufus Thomas,
The Velvet Underground,
Saccharine Trust,
Johnny Osbourne,
the Slits,
Fugazi,
Godley & Creme,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren.
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.