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 Senegal and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Copenhagen.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Fuzztones to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All the Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Joe & The Fish 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks 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?
Eve St. Jones,
Sex Pistols,
Electric Prunes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
La Düsseldorf,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Los Fastidios,
Pierre Henry,
Nirvana,
Funkadelic,
Bauhaus,
Neu!,
Aural Exciters,
Terrestrial Tones,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Desert Stars,
Robert Görl,
Visage,
Crash Course in Science,
The Dave Clark Five,
Inner City,
Franke,
Whodini,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Youth Brigade,
Gerry Rafferty,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Rosa Yemen,
Dorothy Ashby,
Groovy Waters,
Piero Umiliani,
Neil Young,
Tim Buckley,
The Standells,
Marvin Gaye,
Section 25,
Fad Gadget,
Skarface,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
John Coltrane,
Reuben Wilson,
Minutemen,
Max Romeo,
Tommy Roe,
Porter Ricks,
The Invisible,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
EPMD,
Scrapy,
Icehouse,
Isaac Hayes,
The Birthday Party,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lou Christie,
The Velvet Underground,
Suicide,
Easy Going,
The New Christs,
Gichy Dan,
The Durutti Column,
Infiniti,
Joyce Sims,
Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin.
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.