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 Tanzania and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Mo-Dettes to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Grass Roots. All the underground hits.
All Au Pairs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pet Shop Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
Suicide,
The Index,
Derrick May,
10cc,
Mr. Review,
Colin Newman,
Todd Rundgren,
These Immortal Souls,
Animal Collective,
Whodini,
Supertramp,
Byron Stingily,
Graham Central Station,
Kevin Saunderson,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ronnie Foster,
The Five Americans,
Motorama,
Arthur Verocai,
Circle Jerks,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
LL Cool J,
Carl Craig,
Alice Coltrane,
The Velvet Underground,
Tommy Roe,
Black Moon,
Avey Tare,
Mo-Dettes,
Patti Smith,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Music Machine,
The Toasters,
Altered Images,
Grey Daturas,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Wire,
Soft Machine,
Marc Almond,
The Young Rascals,
Johnny Clarke,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Aural Exciters,
The Mojo Men,
Joyce Sims,
Joy Division,
Fugazi,
PIL,
Sonny Sharrock,
Scott Walker,
Don Cherry,
Darondo,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Barracudas,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Fortunes,
Archie Shepp,
Rufus Thomas,
The Motions,
The Durutti Column,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.