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 Rwanda and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 harpsichord 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 Fluxion to the grunge 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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Slick Rick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Surgeon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maurizio,
Country Teasers,
The Names,
The Birthday Party,
Black Bananas,
Brand Nubian,
Arab on Radar,
E-Dancer,
Sun Ra,
Eve St. Jones,
The Invisible,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Matthew Bourne,
Mission of Burma,
Fear,
Nico,
MC5,
The Real Kids,
Judy Mowatt,
Sarah Menescal,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Arthur Verocai,
Boz Scaggs,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Sonics,
Fad Gadget,
48th St. Collective,
Tim Buckley,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Fuzztones,
The Durutti Column,
Essential Logic,
X-102,
Niagra,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Icehouse,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bang On A Can,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bill Wells,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kaleidoscope,
Johnny Clarke,
Angry Samoans,
Second Layer,
DNA,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Black Pus,
10cc,
Hasil Adkins,
A Certain Ratio,
Faust,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Cluster,
Lebanon Hanover,
Mandrill,
The Modern Lovers,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Smog,
Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front.
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.