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 Ethiopia and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the theremin 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 Crispian St. Peters to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Vaughan Mason & Crew. All the underground hits.
All The Victims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Average White Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Knickerbockers,
Fluxion,
The Raincoats,
Tomorrow,
Surgeon,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Rekid,
Aaron Thompson,
Jimmy McGriff,
D'Angelo,
Inner City,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Masters at Work,
The Slackers,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Index,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Colin Newman,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
John Foxx,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Glambeats Corp.,
Moss Icon,
Bobby Sherman,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
the Association,
Slick Rick,
Althea and Donna,
Scott Walker,
Letta Mbulu,
Sarah Menescal,
Alphaville,
Smog,
Henry Cow,
Theoretical Girls,
Ralphi Rosario,
Fear,
Lalann,
Ten City,
Throbbing Gristle,
Visage,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sugar Minott,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Supertramp,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Brand Nubian,
the Sonics,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Soft Cell,
Jacques Brel,
Harpers Bizarre,
Gang Starr,
Pantaleimon,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
the Slits,
Black Flag,
Gabor Szabo,
E-Dancer,
Mars,
June Days,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.