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 Grenada and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Leonard Cohen to the dance 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 Mars. All the underground hits.
All Wolf Eyes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantytec 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sisters of Mercy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Black Pus,
Adolescents,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gabor Szabo,
Jerry's Kids,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Stockholm Monsters,
Cameo,
Bill Near,
Mars,
Sixth Finger,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Throbbing Gristle,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Grass Roots,
Bobby Byrd,
Radiohead,
Todd Rundgren,
Lyres,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Severed Heads,
Trumans Water,
Susan Cadogan,
Man Eating Sloth,
Moss Icon,
Skaos,
Monolake,
Suburban Knight,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sexual Harrassment,
OOIOO,
Moby Grape,
Depeche Mode,
Robert Hood,
Talk Talk,
Altered Images,
Bobby Womack,
The American Breed,
Heaven 17,
The Gladiators,
The Cowsills,
Rufus Thomas,
The Kinks,
Sun City Girls,
Mr. Review,
Swans,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gang Green,
Piero Umiliani,
Thompson Twins,
Chris & Cosey,
Reagan Youth,
Clear Light,
ABBA,
The Flesh Eaters,
Saccharine Trust,
Agent Orange,
Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer.
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.