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 Papua New Guinea and from London.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Tomorrow to the rock 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 Kurtis Blow. All the underground hits.
All John Holt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The United States of America record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Malaria!,
Vladislav Delay,
Pagans,
Harpers Bizarre,
The New Christs,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Jawbox,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Arcadia,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sun City Girls,
Massinfluence,
Michelle Simonal,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
John Cale,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Lyres,
Symarip,
Dave Gahan,
Jacques Brel,
Aural Exciters,
Bill Near,
Das Ding,
Johnny Clarke,
Erasure,
E-Dancer,
Trumans Water,
These Immortal Souls,
Terrestrial Tones,
Duran Duran,
Mad Mike,
Stereo Dub,
Visage,
Monks,
Spandau Ballet,
Essential Logic,
Cybotron,
Traffic Nightmare,
Khruangbin,
The Kinks,
Mission of Burma,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
New Age Steppers,
K-Klass,
David McCallum,
Mandrill,
Clear Light,
The Evens,
Quando Quango,
The Walker Brothers,
Talk Talk,
Royal Trux,
Crooked Eye,
Shoche,
Eli Mardock,
Surgeon,
Hardrive,
Cecil Taylor,
Lee Hazlewood,
Outsiders,
The Remains,
Rhythm & Sound,
Scientists,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade.
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.