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 Paraguay and from Tokyo.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 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 Angry Samoans to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Roy Ayers. All the underground hits.
All Ice-T tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Iggy Pop,
Magma,
Barbara Tucker,
Mark Hollis,
The Dead C,
The Names,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Five Americans,
Anakelly,
The Techniques,
Ultra Naté,
Rotary Connection,
Lucky Dragons,
Eve St. Jones,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Moebius,
the Bar-Kays,
New Order,
Blancmange,
Sex Pistols,
Average White Band,
LL Cool J,
Swans,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Raincoats,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Juan Atkins,
H. Thieme,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Tommy Roe,
Youth Brigade,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Dual Sessions,
Index,
Panda Bear,
Todd Terry,
Urselle,
The Star Department,
Stockholm Monsters,
Soul Sonic Force,
Quantec,
The Durutti Column,
Chris & Cosey,
Donald Byrd,
Animal Collective,
Qualms,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The J.B.'s,
Roy Ayers,
Sonic Youth,
Traffic Nightmare,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
OOIOO,
Joyce Sims,
Mary Jane Girls,
Tim Buckley,
Lou Reed,
Con Funk Shun,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.