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 Mauritania and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Gong to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Oblivians. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Teasers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Davy DMX,
Bobby Sherman,
The Durutti Column,
Grauzone,
The Gories,
Jeru the Damaja,
Circle Jerks,
The Real Kids,
Idris Muhammad,
Aloha Tigers,
The Smoke,
kango's stein massive,
Swans,
Monks,
Moebius,
Donny Hathaway,
Panda Bear,
Aaron Thompson,
Groovy Waters,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
In Retrospect,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Gap Band,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Music Machine,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eve St. Jones,
These Immortal Souls,
The New Christs,
The Cure,
The Grass Roots,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Rites of Spring,
Oblivians,
Subhumans,
The Fortunes,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sexual Harrassment,
Skaos,
Maleditus Sound,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Mark Hollis,
Loose Ends,
The Moleskins,
The Star Department,
Infiniti,
Hasil Adkins,
Jawbox,
Pierre Henry,
a-ha,
Scan 7,
Tres Demented,
Robert Hood,
the Soft Cell,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Searchers,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Barry Ungar,
Marcia Griffiths,
Fat Boys,
Yellowson,
John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx.
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.