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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Hong Kong.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Nas to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Lyres tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Parry Music record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
World's Most,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Crispian St. Peters,
the Soft Cell,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Human League,
Public Image Ltd.,
Chrome,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Traffic Nightmare,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
John Coltrane,
Wire,
Gabor Szabo,
Buzzcocks,
Nik Kershaw,
Blossom Toes,
Vainqueur,
Delta 5,
Gang of Four,
Cybotron,
Arcadia,
The Happenings,
Symarip,
UT,
Kool Moe Dee,
Lalo Schifrin,
Moby Grape,
Rekid,
Pere Ubu,
Subhumans,
Y Pants,
The Moody Blues,
Flash Fearless,
Radio Birdman,
Scan 7,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Black Pus,
The Standells,
Swans,
Aural Exciters,
The Detroit Cobras,
Shoche,
Jeff Mills,
Jandek,
Fear,
Josef K,
Davy DMX,
Reuben Wilson,
Hasil Adkins,
Curtis Mayfield,
Tom Boy,
MC5,
Mo-Dettes,
Livin' Joy,
Skriet,
Ken Boothe,
Rites of Spring,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bobby Byrd,
The Leaves,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange.
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.