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 Armenia and from Bologna.
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 Philadelphia and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Deepchord to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All The Birthday Party tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bauhaus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Black Dice record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fad Gadget,
Eric Dolphy,
Mr. Review,
Agent Orange,
The Victims,
Gabor Szabo,
Fat Boys,
Grandmaster Flash,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Birthday Party,
The Misunderstood,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Danielle Patucci,
B.T. Express,
Skriet,
Urselle,
The Kinks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Dave Gahan,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Janne Schatter,
Loose Ends,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Mojo Men,
Andrew Hill,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pylon,
Arab on Radar,
Mo-Dettes,
New York Dolls,
The Sonics,
John Foxx,
Yusef Lateef,
Derrick May,
The Walker Brothers,
Unrelated Segments,
World's Most,
Letta Mbulu,
John Lydon,
Robert Görl,
Pole,
Scientists,
Cal Tjader,
Cluster,
Newcleus,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Make Up,
Quando Quango,
Cecil Taylor,
Electric Light Orchestra,
David McCallum,
Scion,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The New Christs,
The Pop Group,
Eric Copeland,
Wally Richardson,
Sex Pistols,
Lucky Dragons,
Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo.
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.