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 Namibia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Joyce Sims to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Vainqueur tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slackers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mad Mike,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Reuben Wilson,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Kinks,
Grauzone,
Arthur Verocai,
Sparks,
Spandau Ballet,
Bizarre Inc.,
Fat Boys,
Bill Wells,
Newcleus,
Terrestrial Tones,
Unrelated Segments,
Minutemen,
the Germs,
Janne Schatter,
The Offenders,
F. McDonald,
the Slits,
the Association,
The Fuzztones,
Malaria!,
Television,
Organ,
the Swans,
Michelle Simonal,
The Durutti Column,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Rakim,
The Searchers,
The Dead C,
David McCallum,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Goldenarms,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Alice Coltrane,
Jacques Brel,
The Barracudas,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Boredoms,
Suburban Knight,
The Martian,
D'Angelo,
Gerry Rafferty,
Khruangbin,
The Human League,
Smog,
Surgeon,
Bill Near,
Television Personalities,
Clear Light,
The Knickerbockers,
The Pop Group,
Suicide,
X-102,
Depeche Mode,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Star Department,
The Associates,
The Doors,
Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin.
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.