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 Libya and from Woodstock.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
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 Grandmaster Flash to the grime 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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All X-Ray Spex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dark Day record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pagans,
The Mummies,
The Cramps,
Mark Hollis,
New Age Steppers,
KRS-One,
The Human League,
Nico,
Dual Sessions,
Ponytail,
The Fuzztones,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Gichy Dan,
Kas Product,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Drexciya,
Gang Green,
Pantaleimon,
Index,
Maurizio,
Aural Exciters,
Hardrive,
Derrick Morgan,
The Pretty Things,
Lucky Dragons,
Eli Mardock,
The Cure,
Eve St. Jones,
Black Pus,
Dawn Penn,
The Residents,
Barrington Levy,
Thee Headcoats,
DJ Style,
X-102,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Black Moon,
David Bowie,
Q65,
DJ Sneak,
The Remains,
Rapeman,
Ultravox,
Flipper,
X-101,
Zapp,
Visage,
The Shadows of Knight,
Sixth Finger,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Velvet Underground,
Tommy Roe,
Slick Rick,
Ice-T,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Neil Young,
Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen.
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.