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 Albania and from Cairo.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe 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 Graham Central Station 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 The Tremeloes. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Chocolate Watch Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Buckinghams,
June of 44,
The Raincoats,
Robert Hood,
Anthony Braxton,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Pantaleimon,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Crispian St. Peters,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Terrestrial Tones,
Excepter,
Robert Wyatt,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Fat Boys,
Cheater Slicks,
Tres Demented,
Agent Orange,
Tom Boy,
Joey Negro,
Joyce Sims,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Associates,
Soft Machine,
Arab on Radar,
Mark Hollis,
Patti Smith,
The Dirtbombs,
Angry Samoans,
Suburban Knight,
Mantronix,
World's Most,
Kevin Saunderson,
Jawbox,
Pulsallama,
Heaven 17,
Big Daddy Kane,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Chris Corsano,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Schoolly D,
The Count Five,
The Blackbyrds,
The Stooges,
The Mighty Diamonds,
the Association,
Bill Wells,
These Immortal Souls,
R.M.O.,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Matthew Bourne,
Erykah Badu,
Duran Duran,
Derrick May,
Infiniti,
Severed Heads,
Brand Nubian,
Negative Approach,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Sonics,
Hardrive,
The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels.
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.