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 Houston.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 The Sound to the punk 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 Clear Light. All the underground hits.
All Siouxsie and the Banshees tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
Eddi Front,
Swans,
Dead Boys,
Radio Birdman,
Unwound,
The Gories,
Half Japanese,
Cymande,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sarah Menescal,
Goldenarms,
Scientists,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Lou Christie,
Alison Limerick,
Intrusion,
Vladislav Delay,
Stetsasonic,
The Blackbyrds,
The Real Kids,
Franke,
Lakeside,
Mo-Dettes,
Spoonie Gee,
Sound Behaviour,
Popol Vuh,
The Five Americans,
Reuben Wilson,
Alice Coltrane,
Warsaw,
Oneida,
Deadbeat,
Johnny Osbourne,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Leaves,
Black Sheep,
Pantytec,
Sixth Finger,
ABC,
Big Daddy Kane,
Flamin' Groovies,
Cluster,
Marvin Gaye,
Depeche Mode,
The Dirtbombs,
Neu!,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Moleskins,
Wolf Eyes,
James White and The Blacks,
The Wake,
Metal Thangz,
Tubeway Army,
Desert Stars,
Mantronix,
Sandy B,
The Smiths,
Yazoo,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos.
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.