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 Swaziland and from Salvador.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Pharoah Sanders. All the underground hits.
All Bob Dylan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terror Squad Feat. Camron 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
Graham Central Station,
Moss Icon,
Alphaville,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Gang of Four,
New York Dolls,
The Cramps,
Simply Red,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Cure,
Underground Resistance,
The Evens,
Crime,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Glambeats Corp.,
Traffic Nightmare,
Blake Baxter,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Idris Muhammad,
Archie Shepp,
Connie Case,
Surgeon,
Sparks,
ABC,
Lalann,
The Raincoats,
Nirvana,
Isaac Hayes,
Skriet,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Busters,
Kenny Larkin,
Arthur Verocai,
Popol Vuh,
Brothers Johnson,
Absolute Body Control,
Mars,
Mr. Review,
Bronski Beat,
The Offenders,
The Divine Comedy,
Motorama,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sandy B,
The Mummies,
John Holt,
John Cale,
Bush Tetras,
The Beau Brummels,
Toni Rubio,
Radio Birdman,
June of 44,
Nik Kershaw,
Flash Fearless,
John Foxx,
The American Breed,
Tim Buckley,
Tubeway Army,
Black Sheep,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.