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 Ethiopia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Jakarta.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Lou Reed & Metallica to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Max Romeo. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Order record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Kinks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swans,
Bush Tetras,
The New Christs,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Wire,
Delta 5,
Jawbox,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Mad Mike,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Eric Copeland,
Chrome,
Donny Hathaway,
Pylon,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Golliwogs,
Average White Band,
Dark Day,
The Leaves,
Kas Product,
MDC,
Minnie Riperton,
Matthew Halsall,
Sun City Girls,
Drexciya,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bang On A Can,
Rufus Thomas,
Sarah Menescal,
Crispy Ambulance,
Country Teasers,
Pulsallama,
The Kinks,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Arcadia,
The Move,
Derrick May,
Magazine,
Soulsonic Force,
Quadrant,
The Standells,
Warren Ellis,
Desert Stars,
Arthur Verocai,
X-Ray Spex,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kenny Larkin,
Buzzcocks,
the Fania All-Stars,
Frankie Knuckles,
Eurythmics,
The Blues Magoos,
Dead Boys,
John Holt,
Rekid,
Ossler,
Radio Birdman,
Deepchord,
The Blackbyrds,
Tim Buckley,
Joy Division,
Todd Terry,
Sister Nancy,
The Real Kids,
Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux.
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.