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 Philippines and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Hong Kong.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Supertramp to the disco 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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rites of Spring record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Severed Heads,
Sixth Finger,
H. Thieme,
Alice Coltrane,
John Lydon,
Rapeman,
Ponytail,
Connie Case,
Swell Maps,
The Smoke,
Faust,
Vladislav Delay,
Country Teasers,
Echospace,
Nils Olav,
The Toasters,
Aural Exciters,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Tremeloes,
the Soft Cell,
Fatback Band,
MDC,
Porter Ricks,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Agent Orange,
Deakin,
Lucky Dragons,
MC5,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Roxette,
New Age Steppers,
Mark Hollis,
The Detroit Cobras,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Man Parrish,
The Skatalites,
Subhumans,
The Star Department,
The Fall,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Saints,
Franke,
Sonic Youth,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
June Days,
Pulsallama,
Swans,
Wire,
Quadrant,
Arthur Verocai,
Procol Harum,
Warsaw,
Terry Callier,
The Happenings,
Joe Finger,
Slick Rick,
Lightning Bolt,
These Immortal Souls,
Adolescents,
Rosa Yemen,
Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade.
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.