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 Guyana and from Lyon.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Gang Gang Dance to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Raincoats. All the underground hits.
All Skaos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every K-Klass record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gories,
Marshall Jefferson,
Barclay James Harvest,
New York Dolls,
Delon & Dalcan,
Glambeats Corp.,
Joey Negro,
Bobby Womack,
Kaleidoscope,
Fela Kuti,
Index,
Nirvana,
The Cramps,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Remains,
Monks,
Second Layer,
Hot Snakes,
Nick Fraelich,
Parry Music,
Minny Pops,
Don Cherry,
The Real Kids,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Byron Stingily,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lalo Schifrin,
Lou Reed,
Lakeside,
The Invisible,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Leaves,
Fatback Band,
The Sound,
The New Christs,
Marvin Gaye,
The Searchers,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Mars,
Make Up,
Scratch Acid,
Jandek,
Crash Course in Science,
Brass Construction,
Groovy Waters,
Judy Mowatt,
Black Sheep,
Pet Shop Boys,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
David Bowie,
The Modern Lovers,
Gang Gang Dance,
Technova,
Warren Ellis,
Matthew Bourne,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Babytalk,
Kool Moe Dee,
Eric Copeland,
Crime,
Black Moon,
Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu.
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.