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 Taiwan and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Detroit Cobras to the rap 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 Sandy B. All the underground hits.
All Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Laurel Aitken 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Juan Atkins,
Rapeman,
a-ha,
Slick Rick,
Freddie Wadling,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Black Pus,
Hoover,
U.S. Maple,
Alice Coltrane,
Model 500,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gang Starr,
Joe Finger,
Subhumans,
The Music Machine,
Roger Hodgson,
Susan Cadogan,
The Stooges,
John Holt,
The Neon Judgement,
Hardrive,
Jeff Mills,
Crime,
Japan,
Derrick May,
Tres Demented,
Moss Icon,
DJ Style,
Altered Images,
the Normal,
Unrelated Segments,
Unwound,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Residents,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
FM Einheit,
Pylon,
The Black Dice,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Deakin,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Goldenarms,
Marcia Griffiths,
Arcadia,
Porter Ricks,
Traffic Nightmare,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Barclay James Harvest,
Sun Ra,
Adolescents,
Blossom Toes,
Nirvana,
John Cale,
Ohio Players,
The Toasters,
Bobby Hutcherson,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.