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 Samoa and from Manchester.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Ash Ra Tempel to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam. All the underground hits.
All Scratch Acid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heaven 17 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bush Tetras,
Curtis Mayfield,
Make Up,
The New Christs,
The Pretty Things,
Delon & Dalcan,
Crispian St. Peters,
Beasts of Bourbon,
L. Decosne,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Outsiders,
The Young Rascals,
Country Teasers,
Lou Reed,
Camberwell Now,
Joy Division,
Kas Product,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Colin Newman,
Alphaville,
Jeff Lynne,
the Normal,
Byron Stingily,
Patti Smith,
ABBA,
Laurel Aitken,
Amazonics,
Minny Pops,
The Detroit Cobras,
Von Mondo,
The Monks,
The Sonics,
Faraquet,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
F. McDonald,
Black Flag,
Connie Case,
Dawn Penn,
The Saints,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Camouflage,
The Zeros,
Hardrive,
The Searchers,
Swell Maps,
Heaven 17,
Qualms,
Babytalk,
Con Funk Shun,
The Dirtbombs,
Pulsallama,
Piero Umiliani,
Radio Birdman,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Thee Headcoats,
Barry Ungar,
Circle Jerks,
Nico,
Peter and Kerry,
The Vogues,
The Toasters,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.