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 Nauru and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Althea and Donna to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Sonic Youth 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 disco 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 a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
Arcadia,
Swell Maps,
Swans,
Massinfluence,
Juan Atkins,
Lungfish,
The Toasters,
The Motions,
Yazoo,
Zapp,
The Raincoats,
China Crisis,
The Buckinghams,
Neu!,
The Modern Lovers,
Mantronix,
Black Sheep,
These Immortal Souls,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Vainqueur,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Connie Case,
Essential Logic,
Fad Gadget,
Barbara Tucker,
The Victims,
Bush Tetras,
Outsiders,
the Germs,
Chris Corsano,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Electric Prunes,
Piero Umiliani,
The Mojo Men,
Lebanon Hanover,
Wally Richardson,
World's Most,
Kenny Larkin,
Skriet,
Joy Division,
Archie Shepp,
Nils Olav,
Jimmy McGriff,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Marc Almond,
Danielle Patucci,
Jacques Brel,
Minny Pops,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Gang Green,
Bill Near,
Camberwell Now,
Franke,
Hashim,
Theoretical Girls,
Bootsy Collins,
Mark Hollis,
Nico,
The Smiths,
Rod Modell,
Urselle,
Warren Ellis,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.