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 Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 Paris and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron to the jazz 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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All Al Stewart tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock 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 snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Theoretical Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faraquet,
AZ,
Dead Boys,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bootsy Collins,
Crooked Eye,
Stiv Bators,
Alison Limerick,
The Star Department,
Wasted Youth,
Accadde A,
Sonic Youth,
Jacques Brel,
Arab on Radar,
Yellowson,
Vladislav Delay,
Sun Ra,
Fluxion,
The Angels of Light,
Barbara Tucker,
Dark Day,
OOIOO,
This Heat,
Mars,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Absolute Body Control,
Bob Dylan,
June of 44,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Nils Olav,
Index,
Lalo Schifrin,
Slick Rick,
The Tremeloes,
48th St. Collective,
Godley & Creme,
The Motions,
Lightning Bolt,
Pagans,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Durutti Column,
Kas Product,
DJ Sneak,
The Litter,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Hoover,
Ohio Players,
The Mummies,
Trumans Water,
The Seeds,
Kerri Chandler,
Robert Hood,
Main Source,
Dave Gahan,
The Walker Brothers,
La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf.
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.