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 Colombia and from Philadelphia.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Siouxsie and the Banshees to the jazz 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 Donald Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terrestrial Tones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Dead C,
Khruangbin,
E-Dancer,
Todd Rundgren,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Marvin Gaye,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jimmy McGriff,
Heaven 17,
Symarip,
Freddie Wadling,
Camouflage,
Pierre Henry,
The Cosmic Jokers,
David Axelrod,
Ponytail,
Byron Stingily,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Vainqueur,
The Selecter,
Infiniti,
The Neon Judgement,
The Sound,
Nik Kershaw,
Hoover,
Joe Smooth,
Gong,
the Association,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Marmalade,
The Vogues,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Bobby Byrd,
The Misunderstood,
Jerry Gold Smith,
the Slits,
Kerrie Biddell,
Grey Daturas,
Soul II Soul,
Main Source,
CMW,
Minutemen,
Bobby Sherman,
The Last Poets,
Ornette Coleman,
Tubeway Army,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Offenders,
Bluetip,
Terry Callier,
the Human League,
The Zeros,
Mandrill,
The Fortunes,
Derrick Morgan,
Harmonia,
Wolf Eyes,
Aaron Thompson,
The Human League,
Eli Mardock,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks.
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.