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 Philadelphia.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
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 Skarface to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Lou Reed. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Darondo 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-102 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
The Detroit Cobras,
Minnie Riperton,
Lightning Bolt,
La Düsseldorf,
JFA,
Saccharine Trust,
Eden Ahbez,
Khruangbin,
KRS-One,
Niagra,
Adolescents,
The Slits,
The Martian,
Unrelated Segments,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Victims,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Sonic Youth,
Symarip,
Qualms,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Grandmaster Flash,
Scan 7,
the Slits,
the Bar-Kays,
Crooked Eye,
World's Most,
Eddi Front,
The Young Rascals,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Shoche,
The Gun Club,
Glenn Branca,
Absolute Body Control,
Cal Tjader,
Rosa Yemen,
Nick Fraelich,
Flash Fearless,
Be Bop Deluxe,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Velvet Underground,
Gang of Four,
Amazonics,
The Mummies,
Jandek,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Nico,
Cameo,
Ice-T,
The Real Kids,
Scion,
The New Christs,
Swans,
Delta 5,
Mark Hollis,
Eli Mardock,
Connie Case,
Roxette,
The Names,
Pere Ubu,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.