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 Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Misunderstood to the funk 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 Roxy Music. All the underground hits.
All Pantytec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Zero Boys,
the Sonics,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Suburban Knight,
Arthur Verocai,
Flipper,
Carl Craig,
Massinfluence,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Erykah Badu,
June of 44,
Saccharine Trust,
Kerri Chandler,
Pierre Henry,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sällskapet,
Ossler,
The Red Krayola,
The United States of America,
Dead Boys,
Deadbeat,
Outsiders,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Black Flag,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Los Fastidios,
The Birthday Party,
Throbbing Gristle,
Roger Hodgson,
Theoretical Girls,
Pulsallama,
Chris & Cosey,
E-Dancer,
EPMD,
Chris Corsano,
Q and Not U,
World's Most,
The Cowsills,
Gerry Rafferty,
Electric Prunes,
The Pop Group,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Harpers Bizarre,
Can,
Suicide,
Camouflage,
Hoover,
Pylon,
MC5,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Black Dice,
Bobby Womack,
Radiohead,
Marvin Gaye,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Arcadia,
Agent Orange,
Eden Ahbez,
These Immortal Souls,
Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül.
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.