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 Angola and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 Faraquet to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Litter. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mad Mike record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Popol Vuh,
The Knickerbockers,
Magazine,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Hardrive,
Matthew Halsall,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
DJ Sneak,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Offenders,
John Foxx,
The Gun Club,
Faraquet,
Talk Talk,
Franke,
H. Thieme,
Derrick May,
Magma,
John Lydon,
Zapp,
The Happenings,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Divine Comedy,
Dawn Penn,
Dorothy Ashby,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Jesper Dahlback,
Marcia Griffiths,
Harpers Bizarre,
Von Mondo,
New Age Steppers,
Don Cherry,
Visage,
Barclay James Harvest,
Fugazi,
Severed Heads,
Erykah Badu,
Bill Wells,
Jeru the Damaja,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Maleditus Sound,
Deakin,
Whodini,
Babytalk,
The Selecter,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Brass Construction,
Black Bananas,
Niagra,
T. Rex,
Wings,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Infiniti,
Pet Shop Boys,
Graham Central Station,
Soulsonic Force,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
ABBA,
Radiohead,
the Swans,
Pylon, Pylon, Pylon, Pylon.
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.