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 Equatorial Guinea and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Philadelphia.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review 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 clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roxy Music,
The Pretty Things,
Moss Icon,
Drexciya,
June Days,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Alarm Clocks,
Severed Heads,
Youth Brigade,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Young Rascals,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Cowsills,
Niagra,
D'Angelo,
Flash Fearless,
Little Man,
Kerri Chandler,
Vainqueur,
Bill Wells,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Fall,
Soft Cell,
Lightning Bolt,
Depeche Mode,
Skarface,
the Association,
Ten City,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Scott Walker,
Hot Snakes,
Steve Hackett,
Spandau Ballet,
Glenn Branca,
Radiohead,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Smog,
Ralphi Rosario,
Arcadia,
Avey Tare,
Skriet,
Nico,
Pagans,
Ken Boothe,
Marshall Jefferson,
Aaron Thompson,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Stiv Bators,
Funkadelic,
Susan Cadogan,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sonny Sharrock,
Funky Four + One,
Bluetip,
John Coltrane,
The Last Poets,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.