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 Spain and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Sonics to the disco 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 Stiv Bators. All the underground hits.
All Ash Ra Tempel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harmonia,
Anakelly,
Ralphi Rosario,
Soft Cell,
The Walker Brothers,
10cc,
Arab on Radar,
Grauzone,
John Holt,
Reuben Wilson,
Pylon,
Electric Prunes,
Cluster,
Kerri Chandler,
The Monochrome Set,
K-Klass,
Warren Ellis,
Mad Mike,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lalo Schifrin,
Mo-Dettes,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Pharoah Sanders,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Drexciya,
Hoover,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Selecter,
Inner City,
Minutemen,
Lou Reed,
The Standells,
The Gap Band,
Big Daddy Kane,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Gil Scott Heron,
Rotary Connection,
Rakim,
Ken Boothe,
June of 44,
T. Rex,
Bad Manners,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ultra Naté,
Mr. Review,
the Association,
Harry Pussy,
Archie Shepp,
Radiohead,
Basic Channel,
A Certain Ratio,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
New Age Steppers,
Dennis Brown,
Aswad,
Ornette Coleman,
Guru Guru,
The Dave Clark Five,
Das Ding,
Reagan Youth,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Mission of Burma,
The Young Rascals, The Young Rascals, The Young Rascals, The Young Rascals.
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.