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 Lesotho and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 the Association to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Roxy Music. All the underground hits.
All Minor Threat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blancmange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Be Bop Deluxe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Moleskins,
Joensuu 1685,
Agent Orange,
Susan Cadogan,
Boredoms,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Searchers,
Guru Guru,
Subhumans,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Stetsasonic,
the Bar-Kays,
This Heat,
Wire,
the Fania All-Stars,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bluetip,
Mantronix,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Gladiators,
Reuben Wilson,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Mark Hollis,
Throbbing Gristle,
Max Romeo,
John Foxx,
Lalann,
The Fugs,
Carl Craig,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Neon Judgement,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Invisible,
The Shadows of Knight,
Heaven 17,
the Soft Cell,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Nik Kershaw,
Public Enemy,
Model 500,
Swans,
Chris Corsano,
Circle Jerks,
Niagra,
In Retrospect,
Accadde A,
The Victims,
Icehouse,
Iggy Pop,
KRS-One,
David Bowie,
a-ha,
Lalo Schifrin,
DJ Sneak,
Mission of Burma,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Soft Cell,
Bizarre Inc.,
Inner City,
The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers.
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.