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 Comoros and from Cairo.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the güiro 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 Heaven 17 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 Warsaw. All the underground hits.
All Fugazi tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Light Orchestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Parry Music,
Icehouse,
Stetsasonic,
Animal Collective,
Television,
Ituana,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Cowsills,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Rites of Spring,
E-Dancer,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Absolute Body Control,
H. Thieme,
This Heat,
Man Parrish,
Pulsallama,
Television Personalities,
Pantaleimon,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Cure,
The Fuzztones,
Tim Buckley,
Johnny Clarke,
Mo-Dettes,
X-101,
Eve St. Jones,
Interpol,
D'Angelo,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Flash Fearless,
The Durutti Column,
Chris & Cosey,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Flesh Eaters,
John Lydon,
Pantytec,
Siglo XX,
Young Marble Giants,
Camberwell Now,
Amon Düül II,
Scan 7,
David Bowie,
Glenn Branca,
Thee Headcoats,
Albert Ayler,
Nick Fraelich,
The Dirtbombs,
The Beau Brummels,
Skarface,
The Grass Roots,
The Music Machine,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Marine Girls,
Tom Boy,
Jerry's Kids,
Subhumans,
Jacques Brel,
Scion,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy.
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.