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 Andorra and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 theremin 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 Section 25 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 Niagra. All the underground hits.
All Visage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mantronix,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Fat Boys,
Model 500,
Marine Girls,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Young Rascals,
Gang of Four,
Subhumans,
Theoretical Girls,
The Zeros,
The Techniques,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Golliwogs,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Seeds,
Curtis Mayfield,
Radiohead,
Hoover,
Sun Ra,
Arthur Verocai,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Cure,
Pole,
Big Daddy Kane,
Kerri Chandler,
Johnny Clarke,
Josef K,
The American Breed,
Black Bananas,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Mars,
Moebius,
Arcadia,
Slick Rick,
The Gladiators,
The Gories,
Henry Cow,
Minor Threat,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Dave Gahan,
Urselle,
Section 25,
The Cramps,
Grey Daturas,
Cecil Taylor,
Ornette Coleman,
Faraquet,
Animal Collective,
Wolf Eyes,
Dead Boys,
Public Enemy,
LL Cool J,
DJ Style,
Tom Boy,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Move,
Pylon,
Babytalk,
June of 44,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.