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 Austria and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Glasgow.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Mojo Men to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Monochrome Set. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eurythmics 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
Henry Cow,
Jandek,
The Dirtbombs,
Fatback Band,
Shuggie Otis,
Gregory Isaacs,
Harry Pussy,
Young Marble Giants,
Godley & Creme,
Maleditus Sound,
Bobby Womack,
Sixth Finger,
Warsaw,
Public Enemy,
The Index,
Nas,
Eric B and Rakim,
Inner City,
Radiopuhelimet,
Scan 7,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Camberwell Now,
Hot Snakes,
Johnny Osbourne,
Erasure,
Scientists,
The Fuzztones,
Howard Jones,
The Trojans,
Stereo Dub,
R.M.O.,
Unrelated Segments,
the Germs,
Kaleidoscope,
Morten Harket,
The Techniques,
Avey Tare,
Scion,
Frankie Knuckles,
Leonard Cohen,
The Walker Brothers,
Arthur Verocai,
The Monks,
Pylon,
Alton Ellis,
Y Pants,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Electric Prunes,
the Association,
Tommy Roe,
Ituana,
Barry Ungar,
Aaron Thompson,
Theoretical Girls,
Donald Byrd,
Piero Umiliani,
Rapeman,
Terry Callier,
The Searchers,
Gang Green,
DNA,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.