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 Azerbaijan and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 a-ha to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 DeepChord presents Echospace. All the underground hits.
All Ronnie Foster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Association record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mark Hollis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mary Jane Girls,
The Slits,
Eve St. Jones,
Mr. Review,
Scientists,
Fatback Band,
T. Rex,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Aaron Thompson,
Y Pants,
Judy Mowatt,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Zeros,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Cluster,
Zapp,
Severed Heads,
The Moody Blues,
Duran Duran,
The Gun Club,
Tubeway Army,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Byron Stingily,
Vainqueur,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Camouflage,
Danielle Patucci,
The Dirtbombs,
Max Romeo,
Popol Vuh,
John Lydon,
Oblivians,
James White and The Blacks,
Babytalk,
Reuben Wilson,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Flipper,
The Trojans,
Kas Product,
Traffic Nightmare,
the Soft Cell,
R.M.O.,
Monks,
Buzzcocks,
Can,
Sonic Youth,
Sparks,
The Cramps,
Bush Tetras,
the Bar-Kays,
The Misunderstood,
Qualms,
Black Flag,
Khruangbin,
The Cure,
Scan 7,
The Golliwogs,
Tropical Tobacco,
EPMD,
The Remains,
The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras.
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.