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 China and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Maleditus Sound to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth. All the underground hits.
All Terry Callier tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every La Düsseldorf 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 harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
Bob Dylan,
The Young Rascals,
Connie Case,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Jeff Lynne,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
John Holt,
Piero Umiliani,
E-Dancer,
Bad Manners,
Gregory Isaacs,
the Association,
Archie Shepp,
Gabor Szabo,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Black Moon,
Royal Trux,
Jimmy McGriff,
Quantec,
Sister Nancy,
Joensuu 1685,
Young Marble Giants,
Procol Harum,
Con Funk Shun,
Josef K,
Kayak,
the Soft Cell,
Clear Light,
The Five Americans,
The Fall,
Quadrant,
Aswad,
Mars,
Whodini,
U.S. Maple,
The Smiths,
Matthew Halsall,
Flamin' Groovies,
Eve St. Jones,
Cecil Taylor,
The Velvet Underground,
Letta Mbulu,
The Blackbyrds,
Crispy Ambulance,
Nico,
Harry Pussy,
These Immortal Souls,
The Fire Engines,
Popol Vuh,
Dual Sessions,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Flash Fearless,
Eric Dolphy,
Ronnie Foster,
The Gun Club,
Robert Wyatt,
Warsaw,
Scan 7,
Slick Rick,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.