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 Laos and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Cramps to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Henry Cow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
Black Bananas,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Iggy Pop,
The Modern Lovers,
The Mojo Men,
Fatback Band,
Drexciya,
Q and Not U,
The Neon Judgement,
kango's stein massive,
Stereo Dub,
Joy Division,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Smiths,
Morten Harket,
John Holt,
Harry Pussy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Masters at Work,
Don Cherry,
The Fugs,
Fear,
the Sonics,
Brass Construction,
The Gladiators,
Amon Düül II,
Sonic Youth,
The Saints,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Franke,
Lee Hazlewood,
L. Decosne,
Intrusion,
The Young Rascals,
Hasil Adkins,
Second Layer,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sandy B,
Jesper Dahlback,
Mark Hollis,
Faraquet,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Dead Boys,
The Count Five,
Neu!,
Pharoah Sanders,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Robert Görl,
Archie Shepp,
Freddie Wadling,
Barclay James Harvest,
Ten City,
Camberwell Now,
The Flesh Eaters,
Susan Cadogan,
Derrick May,
The Happenings,
Juan Atkins,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.