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 Guinea-Bissau and from Spokane.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Stockholm.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Walker Brothers to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Lower 48. All the underground hits.
All Average White Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Cell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blues Magoos record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Selecter,
Throbbing Gristle,
Brick,
Jeru the Damaja,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Gun Club,
Altered Images,
Sight & Sound,
Yusef Lateef,
Beasts of Bourbon,
U.S. Maple,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Aaron Thompson,
Moby Grape,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Smog,
Susan Cadogan,
Das Ding,
Ituana,
Khruangbin,
Crime,
Soft Machine,
The Dirtbombs,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Steve Hackett,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bill Near,
Hardrive,
The Tremeloes,
Spandau Ballet,
Clear Light,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Michelle Simonal,
Newcleus,
Underground Resistance,
Bush Tetras,
The Music Machine,
Brass Construction,
The Victims,
Boredoms,
The Fugs,
Matthew Bourne,
Warsaw,
Nirvana,
DNA,
Idris Muhammad,
Joensuu 1685,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
June Days,
Von Mondo,
Ludus,
These Immortal Souls,
Glenn Branca,
Camouflage,
Pharoah Sanders,
Delon & Dalcan,
Alison Limerick,
The Cure,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Skaos, Skaos, Skaos, Skaos.
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.