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 Afghanistan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Suicide. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every La Düsseldorf record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Stooges,
Clear Light,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Roxy Music,
Ralphi Rosario,
Mr. Review,
Drive Like Jehu,
Donny Hathaway,
Black Pus,
Quando Quango,
Grandmaster Flash,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Walker Brothers,
Kurtis Blow,
Stereo Dub,
Easy Going,
Rites of Spring,
Franke,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
B.T. Express,
Nick Fraelich,
Godley & Creme,
Freddie Wadling,
The Standells,
X-Ray Spex,
the Association,
Eurythmics,
Cecil Taylor,
Deadbeat,
Aural Exciters,
Unrelated Segments,
The Searchers,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Trojans,
Skriet,
Harry Pussy,
Jesper Dahlback,
Nation of Ulysses,
Eric Copeland,
Jacob Miller,
John Lydon,
The Fall,
La Düsseldorf,
The Gap Band,
Brothers Johnson,
Main Source,
Stetsasonic,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Index,
New Order,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Barrington Levy,
the Human League,
Curtis Mayfield,
Carl Craig,
Robert Görl,
A Flock of Seagulls,
One Last Wish,
Livin' Joy,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines.
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.