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 Netherlands and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Throbbing Gristle to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Basic Channel. All the underground hits.
All Roxette tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barry Ungar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer 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?
Jerry Gold Smith,
Drive Like Jehu,
James White and The Blacks,
Avey Tare,
Qualms,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Crooked Eye,
the Sonics,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bill Wells,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Searchers,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Barracudas,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Divine Comedy,
A Certain Ratio,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Moody Blues,
Kaleidoscope,
Boz Scaggs,
Cal Tjader,
New Order,
R.M.O.,
Donald Byrd,
The Velvet Underground,
Nils Olav,
Ornette Coleman,
Reuben Wilson,
Bang On A Can,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Half Japanese,
Gang Gang Dance,
Liliput,
Danielle Patucci,
Lou Reed,
Flamin' Groovies,
Jeff Lynne,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Deadbeat,
Desert Stars,
Marc Almond,
Ituana,
Ken Boothe,
The New Christs,
Neu!,
The Count Five,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Brothers Johnson,
Monolake,
The Sound,
The Monks,
Ronnie Foster,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Adolescents,
The Mojo Men,
The Fortunes,
The Golliwogs,
Bizarre Inc.,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.