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 Ecuador and from Salvador.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Tears for Fears to the funk 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 Main Source. All the underground hits.
All The Smoke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fela Kuti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roxy Music,
Chris Corsano,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Toni Rubio,
B.T. Express,
Black Pus,
Shoche,
Eli Mardock,
Niagra,
The Wake,
Althea and Donna,
Soulsonic Force,
Mary Jane Girls,
Groovy Waters,
Junior Murvin,
Byron Stingily,
Brick,
Lou Reed,
The Buckinghams,
H. Thieme,
Erasure,
The Black Dice,
Minny Pops,
Mr. Review,
New Age Steppers,
Sex Pistols,
Dennis Brown,
ABBA,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Deakin,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Gladiators,
Pierre Henry,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Residents,
The Mummies,
Fugazi,
Warren Ellis,
The Toasters,
Adolescents,
Crispy Ambulance,
The American Breed,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Delon & Dalcan,
Quando Quango,
The Index,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Vladislav Delay,
The Beau Brummels,
David McCallum,
Black Flag,
Mo-Dettes,
Soft Machine,
Arthur Verocai,
Danielle Patucci,
Eric B and Rakim,
Kerrie Biddell,
Kool Moe Dee,
Eric Dolphy,
Rod Modell,
Negative Approach,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Remains, The Remains, The Remains, The Remains.
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.