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 East Timor and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Bill Wells to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Robert Wyatt. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Mills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Danielle Patucci,
James White and The Blacks,
R.M.O.,
Robert Görl,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Kayak,
Cluster,
Sex Pistols,
David Bowie,
Rosa Yemen,
Mad Mike,
Moebius,
Motorama,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
a-ha,
Schoolly D,
John Holt,
Scientists,
the Slits,
Ultimate Spinach,
Mars,
Mantronix,
The Busters,
Cymande,
Pussy Galore,
Khruangbin,
Lakeside,
Joe Smooth,
Junior Murvin,
Duran Duran,
Pere Ubu,
Public Enemy,
Matthew Halsall,
Organ,
the Soft Cell,
H. Thieme,
Pagans,
Brothers Johnson,
Jacques Brel,
Procol Harum,
Animal Collective,
Desert Stars,
Gang Starr,
The Barracudas,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Banda Bassotti,
Barbara Tucker,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Lower 48,
The Stooges,
Wally Richardson,
Japan,
Clear Light,
The Fire Engines,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Grass Roots,
The Mummies,
Livin' Joy,
Visage, Visage, Visage, Visage.
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.