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 Ukraine and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lyon.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 H. Thieme to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Maurizio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Au Pairs 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sarah Menescal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Curtis Mayfield,
Electric Prunes,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Five Americans,
Jacob Miller,
Jeff Mills,
Deakin,
Soft Cell,
These Immortal Souls,
Massinfluence,
Ronnie Foster,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Byron Stingily,
The Gories,
The Busters,
the Bar-Kays,
Quantec,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Rosa Yemen,
Davy DMX,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sunsets and Hearts,
World's Most,
Letta Mbulu,
The Gun Club,
Delta 5,
The Cure,
Jandek,
This Heat,
Bobby Byrd,
Mandrill,
James White and The Blacks,
Whodini,
Agitation Free,
KRS-One,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Warsaw,
Sun City Girls,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Ituana,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Chris Corsano,
Faraquet,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Detroit Cobras,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Moby Grape,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Organ,
Sexual Harrassment,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Big Daddy Kane,
MDC,
Babytalk,
The Gladiators,
Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai.
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.