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 Croatia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Arthur Verocai to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth. All the underground hits.
All Freddie Wadling tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Theoretical Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Talk Talk,
The Fortunes,
Mo-Dettes,
Little Man,
The Victims,
Cybotron,
Marmalade,
Minutemen,
The Slackers,
Liliput,
Hasil Adkins,
Newcleus,
Hardrive,
Accadde A,
Gerry Rafferty,
Q and Not U,
Nas,
The J.B.'s,
The Divine Comedy,
Soft Cell,
Sun Ra,
The Barracudas,
Bluetip,
Barbara Tucker,
The Residents,
Spandau Ballet,
Scan 7,
Gang Starr,
the Bar-Kays,
Massinfluence,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Modern Lovers,
Sam Rivers,
The Kinks,
Malaria!,
Circle Jerks,
Ludus,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Amazonics,
MDC,
The Gun Club,
Silicon Teens,
The Fire Engines,
Warsaw,
The Pretty Things,
Fugazi,
Throbbing Gristle,
Scientists,
Roxette,
The Offenders,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Fela Kuti,
Intrusion,
Henry Cow,
Swell Maps,
Dead Boys,
The Flesh Eaters,
Crispian St. Peters,
Excepter,
Eve St. Jones,
Organ,
Ten City, Ten City, Ten City, Ten City.
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.