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 Papua New Guinea and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Tokyo.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 PIL to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Radiopuhelimet. All the underground hits.
All Half Japanese tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roxette,
MC5,
Maleditus Sound,
The Mojo Men,
Sparks,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Camouflage,
Depeche Mode,
Underground Resistance,
Juan Atkins,
Ohio Players,
Isaac Hayes,
Erasure,
Soul II Soul,
The Leaves,
Kerri Chandler,
FM Einheit,
Silicon Teens,
Andrew Hill,
The Doors,
Main Source,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sarah Menescal,
Jerry's Kids,
Suicide,
The Names,
Arcadia,
The Martian,
The Count Five,
The Smoke,
Amon Düül,
48th St. Collective,
Jeru the Damaja,
Dave Gahan,
The Detroit Cobras,
Scientists,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Agitation Free,
Joe Finger,
The Busters,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Laurel Aitken,
Au Pairs,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Kayak,
Bush Tetras,
Cameo,
Mr. Review,
The Dirtbombs,
Loose Ends,
Sexual Harrassment,
T. Rex,
Gang Green,
Television,
Harry Pussy,
Barclay James Harvest,
Spoonie Gee,
Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy.
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.