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 Liberia and from Manchester.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe 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 Eve St. Jones to the jazz 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 Kings Of Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All U.S. Maple tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Morten Harket record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry's Kids,
Joey Negro,
Mr. Review,
a-ha,
PIL,
The American Breed,
Section 25,
Roxy Music,
Crooked Eye,
Qualms,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Marshall Jefferson,
Aural Exciters,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Peter & Gordon,
48th St. Collective,
Dave Gahan,
Cheater Slicks,
Ultimate Spinach,
Country Teasers,
Magma,
Q and Not U,
Smog,
Rufus Thomas,
Deepchord,
Funkadelic,
Glenn Branca,
Susan Cadogan,
Ronan,
B.T. Express,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bob Dylan,
The Raincoats,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Deakin,
The Walker Brothers,
Goldenarms,
Matthew Halsall,
The Detroit Cobras,
Laurel Aitken,
Thompson Twins,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Kerrie Biddell,
Funky Four + One,
Fela Kuti,
K-Klass,
Bang On A Can,
Mission of Burma,
The Five Americans,
Pantaleimon,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Skaos,
Half Japanese,
Gabor Szabo,
The Seeds,
Sällskapet,
Agent Orange,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Fad Gadget,
Donald Byrd,
Chrome, Chrome, Chrome, Chrome.
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.