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 Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro 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 John Lydon to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Happenings. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jesper Dahlbäck record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Banda Bassotti,
DJ Style,
Faust,
Liliput,
Minutemen,
Animal Collective,
Arcadia,
Khruangbin,
Jacques Brel,
DNA,
Man Eating Sloth,
Juan Atkins,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Negative Approach,
ABBA,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Isaac Hayes,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Vogues,
Half Japanese,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Mummies,
Jeru the Damaja,
Gong,
The Black Dice,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Bluetip,
Sixth Finger,
Wire,
Graham Central Station,
Soulsonic Force,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Pantytec,
Nas,
Mantronix,
Slick Rick,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Eli Mardock,
A Certain Ratio,
the Germs,
Grauzone,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bobby Hutcherson,
the Soft Cell,
Sparks,
Wolf Eyes,
Max Romeo,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Terrestrial Tones,
Boz Scaggs,
Althea and Donna,
The Cowsills,
Organ,
These Immortal Souls,
L. Decosne,
Steve Hackett,
Whodini,
Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne.
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.