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 Antigua and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
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 Wolf Eyes to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Harry Pussy. All the underground hits.
All Bang On A Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marvin Gaye 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick May,
Echospace,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Blossom Toes,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Pole,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Pretty Things,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sex Pistols,
Morten Harket,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Quantec,
Moss Icon,
The Count Five,
Kas Product,
Colin Newman,
Intrusion,
Angry Samoans,
Little Man,
X-101,
Mo-Dettes,
Franke,
Magazine,
The Flesh Eaters,
Hot Snakes,
The Associates,
Skriet,
Stetsasonic,
Nation of Ulysses,
Vainqueur,
Barclay James Harvest,
Fatback Band,
Blancmange,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
James White and The Blacks,
Eurythmics,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Stockholm Monsters,
Chris Corsano,
Arab on Radar,
Dead Boys,
Buzzcocks,
Scratch Acid,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
ABBA,
Babytalk,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gregory Isaacs,
Skarface,
The Residents,
Pharoah Sanders,
Lou Reed,
The Motions,
Rod Modell,
Mad Mike,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Mr. Review,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap, Gary Puckett & The Union Gap, Gary Puckett & The Union Gap, Gary Puckett & The Union Gap.
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.