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 Kyrgyzstan and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar 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 Shadows of Knight to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Animal Collective. All the underground hits.
All Black Sheep tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxette record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Modern Lovers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Andrew Hill,
The Cramps,
Soft Cell,
China Crisis,
Robert Görl,
Camouflage,
Suicide,
Aloha Tigers,
The Slackers,
Nico,
The Doors,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Anakelly,
Jacob Miller,
Masters at Work,
Eve St. Jones,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Faraquet,
U.S. Maple,
The Residents,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Fall,
The United States of America,
Zapp,
Mary Jane Girls,
Nas,
Donald Byrd,
Pantytec,
Jacques Brel,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Hardrive,
48th St. Collective,
Marmalade,
Bronski Beat,
The Martian,
B.T. Express,
Rotary Connection,
8 Eyed Spy,
H. Thieme,
Neu!,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Country Joe & The Fish,
EPMD,
Joensuu 1685,
The Golliwogs,
Aural Exciters,
Graham Central Station,
Panda Bear,
Hoover,
Radio Birdman,
Japan,
Dorothy Ashby,
Radiohead,
Don Cherry,
Pussy Galore,
AZ,
PIL,
Section 25,
Pantaleimon,
Amazonics,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.