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 Mozambique and from Hong Kong.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Sam Rivers to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Dark Day. All the underground hits.
All Max Romeo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moebius,
Marshall Jefferson,
OOIOO,
T. Rex,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Fugs,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Pussy Galore,
Glenn Branca,
The Black Dice,
Deepchord,
Crash Course in Science,
Alice Coltrane,
Donald Byrd,
Fad Gadget,
Matthew Halsall,
Theoretical Girls,
June of 44,
Colin Newman,
Symarip,
Rod Modell,
Zapp,
Rapeman,
Franke,
Slave,
Lee Hazlewood,
Stockholm Monsters,
Guru Guru,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Music Machine,
Judy Mowatt,
Blancmange,
R.M.O.,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Talk Talk,
Yazoo,
Monks,
Cybotron,
Agitation Free,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Cal Tjader,
Amazonics,
Brand Nubian,
Spandau Ballet,
Sex Pistols,
The Smoke,
F. McDonald,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Bob Dylan,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Lightning Bolt,
Panda Bear,
Das Ding,
Darondo,
The Sisters of Mercy,
the Human League,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Electric Prunes,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Harry Pussy,
Dawn Penn,
Visage,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.