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 France and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 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 The Fortunes to the punk 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 Gang of Four. All the underground hits.
All Buzzcocks 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 disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rosa Yemen,
James White and The Blacks,
H. Thieme,
Heaven 17,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Spoonie Gee,
The Sonics,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
cv313,
The Cowsills,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rotary Connection,
Gang Green,
New Age Steppers,
Blancmange,
The Toasters,
Minnie Riperton,
Gang of Four,
Suicide,
New Order,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Khruangbin,
The Detroit Cobras,
Chrome,
Rhythm & Sound,
Supertramp,
Skarface,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Chris & Cosey,
Rakim,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Gang Gang Dance,
In Retrospect,
Stetsasonic,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Quando Quango,
K-Klass,
Mary Jane Girls,
Dead Boys,
The Misunderstood,
Inner City,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Todd Rundgren,
The Gap Band,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
These Immortal Souls,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Techniques,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Vogues,
Eve St. Jones,
The Doobie Brothers,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Grass Roots,
Magma,
Skaos,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
X-Ray Spex,
Sam Rivers,
Jacques Brel,
John Foxx,
Electric Prunes,
The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones.
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.