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 Namibia and from Calgary.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Sex Pistols to the jazz 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Marvin Gaye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every These Immortal Souls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Iggy Pop,
Guru Guru,
Scratch Acid,
Flipper,
Organ,
Easy Going,
Ludus,
Marine Girls,
The Walker Brothers,
Nils Olav,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Electric Prunes,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Prince Buster,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Patti Smith,
Hot Snakes,
Mandrill,
Sight & Sound,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
B.T. Express,
The Misunderstood,
Suburban Knight,
The Searchers,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Jeff Lynne,
Lou Christie,
Eric Dolphy,
Severed Heads,
Camberwell Now,
Isaac Hayes,
Quantec,
Groovy Waters,
Harry Pussy,
Dawn Penn,
Johnny Clarke,
Maleditus Sound,
Ornette Coleman,
Chris & Cosey,
The Young Rascals,
Blancmange,
Robert Wyatt,
Marmalade,
X-102,
Swell Maps,
10cc,
Glambeats Corp.,
Unwound,
Quadrant,
The Sonics,
Black Pus,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Fortunes,
The Sound,
The Martian,
Spoonie Gee,
Brothers Johnson,
The Fugs,
Grauzone,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Remains,
Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants.
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.