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 Cyprus and from Shanghai.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Black Pus to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Rites of Spring. All the underground hits.
All Arcadia tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Loose Ends record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Hot Snakes,
The Monks,
Newcleus,
New Order,
Swans,
Eric Copeland,
Terrestrial Tones,
John Coltrane,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Cure,
R.M.O.,
Marmalade,
John Lydon,
The Buckinghams,
Fear,
Stiv Bators,
The Cowsills,
the Fania All-Stars,
Sarah Menescal,
Bootsy Collins,
Sandy B,
Don Cherry,
The Five Americans,
Scott Walker,
Aaron Thompson,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Siglo XX,
Isaac Hayes,
Blossom Toes,
Visage,
Supertramp,
Deadbeat,
Faust,
The Shadows of Knight,
Alphaville,
Lalo Schifrin,
Steve Hackett,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Pretty Things,
Silicon Teens,
Motorama,
Black Moon,
Interpol,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Drive Like Jehu,
Marvin Gaye,
Gil Scott Heron,
Monks,
Pierre Henry,
Colin Newman,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Country Teasers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ice-T,
Connie Case,
Rosa Yemen,
the Soft Cell,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez.
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.