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 Panama and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the marimba 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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Public Enemy. All the underground hits.
All Lebanon Hanover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Light Orchestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Talk Talk,
Stetsasonic,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Colin Newman,
The Blues Magoos,
Marmalade,
Harpers Bizarre,
Tomorrow,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Heaven 17,
Monolake,
The Motions,
Wally Richardson,
Drexciya,
The Standells,
The Tremeloes,
Alton Ellis,
Saccharine Trust,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Carl Craig,
The Angels of Light,
the Swans,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Monks,
Gichy Dan,
Erasure,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bootsy Collins,
The Martian,
The Golliwogs,
Grauzone,
Eric Copeland,
D'Angelo,
Harmonia,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
ABBA,
Albert Ayler,
Dark Day,
Neil Young,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
EPMD,
Mad Mike,
Silicon Teens,
Tommy Roe,
The Seeds,
OOIOO,
H. Thieme,
The Cure,
Television,
Curtis Mayfield,
Circle Jerks,
Janne Schatter,
Von Mondo,
The Gories,
Mars,
Public Enemy,
Skaos,
Gastr Del Sol,
Flipper,
Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay.
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.