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 Czech Republic and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 Mumbai and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Black Dice to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Martian. All the underground hits.
All Davy DMX tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Names record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oneida record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Althea and Donna,
Desert Stars,
Angry Samoans,
Lower 48,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Todd Terry,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Cowsills,
The Barracudas,
Siglo XX,
Nils Olav,
Bob Dylan,
Newcleus,
John Holt,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Saints,
June Days,
Barry Ungar,
Los Fastidios,
the Germs,
Morten Harket,
Q and Not U,
Nirvana,
Saccharine Trust,
Derrick Morgan,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Boredoms,
The Last Poets,
Donald Byrd,
Mission of Burma,
Circle Jerks,
The Blackbyrds,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
JFA,
Laurel Aitken,
Gang Green,
Banda Bassotti,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Livin' Joy,
Marc Almond,
Urselle,
Crispy Ambulance,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Searchers,
The Kinks,
The Sound,
Ituana,
Todd Rundgren,
Sarah Menescal,
R.M.O.,
Bluetip,
Outsiders,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Terry Callier,
Drexciya,
Parry Music,
Soft Cell,
Warren Ellis,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.