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 Sweden and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Edmonton.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 DJ Sneak to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Pantaleimon. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Theoretical Girls 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Maurizio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Second Layer,
Yellowson,
the Swans,
Depeche Mode,
The Young Rascals,
Jacques Brel,
Gang Gang Dance,
Trumans Water,
Fela Kuti,
The Cure,
Gastr Del Sol,
Surgeon,
The Flesh Eaters,
Outsiders,
Hoover,
Sun City Girls,
Skarface,
Deadbeat,
The Fugs,
Aswad,
The Smoke,
Bronski Beat,
Rekid,
Gong,
Dave Gahan,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Shadows of Knight,
Pierre Henry,
Max Romeo,
Soulsonic Force,
Minny Pops,
Rosa Yemen,
Jimmy McGriff,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Sister Nancy,
Reagan Youth,
Smog,
Grey Daturas,
Joe Finger,
The Names,
Alice Coltrane,
Dorothy Ashby,
Thee Headcoats,
Gabor Szabo,
the Bar-Kays,
The Divine Comedy,
Basic Channel,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Invisible,
Camberwell Now,
Bobby Sherman,
Zapp,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Moby Grape,
The Star Department,
Television,
DNA,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Heaven 17,
Underground Resistance,
Can,
the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell.
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.