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 El Salvador and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 mellotron 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 Intrusion to the rap 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 Vaughan Mason & Crew. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camberwell Now record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar 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 organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Star Department,
X-Ray Spex,
Lalo Schifrin,
Groovy Waters,
Kerri Chandler,
F. McDonald,
Freddie Wadling,
The Happenings,
Darondo,
Tears for Fears,
FM Einheit,
Easy Going,
The Monochrome Set,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mad Mike,
The Beau Brummels,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Ultra Naté,
Quantec,
Pantytec,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Piero Umiliani,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Busters,
Intrusion,
Carl Craig,
Make Up,
X-101,
Camberwell Now,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Red Krayola,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Underground Resistance,
The Sound,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Boredoms,
Agent Orange,
The Dirtbombs,
Excepter,
Henry Cow,
Eric Copeland,
Glambeats Corp.,
La Düsseldorf,
Rufus Thomas,
Reuben Wilson,
Curtis Mayfield,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
John Foxx,
Dennis Brown,
Black Flag,
Jesper Dahlback,
Pet Shop Boys,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Hoover,
The J.B.'s,
Buzzcocks,
Interpol,
Girls At Our Best!,
Don Cherry,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Young Marble Giants,
Harmonia,
Shoche, Shoche, Shoche, Shoche.
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.