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 Chad and from Paris.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Marine Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liaisons Dangereuses 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mad Mike record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q and Not U,
Gang Green,
Patti Smith,
The Mojo Men,
Tim Buckley,
Gichy Dan,
Dennis Brown,
Jacob Miller,
Albert Ayler,
Leonard Cohen,
ABBA,
Brick,
Cecil Taylor,
Cal Tjader,
Swell Maps,
Eurythmics,
Oblivians,
Q65,
Pantytec,
Flamin' Groovies,
kango's stein massive,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Interpol,
Anakelly,
Sun Ra,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Gladiators,
Curtis Mayfield,
Nation of Ulysses,
Barry Ungar,
Big Daddy Kane,
Hoover,
Robert Görl,
Index,
Suicide,
DJ Sneak,
Howard Jones,
Marvin Gaye,
Unrelated Segments,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Intrusion,
Mantronix,
Blossom Toes,
Fela Kuti,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Knickerbockers,
Angry Samoans,
Young Marble Giants,
John Cale,
Das Ding,
Marshall Jefferson,
The American Breed,
Marine Girls,
T. Rex,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
the Slits,
Popol Vuh,
48th St. Collective,
Ultra Naté,
Aural Exciters,
Absolute Body Control,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front.
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.