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 United States and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the marimba 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 PIL to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every LL Cool J record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bizarre Inc.,
KRS-One,
The Durutti Column,
Tubeway Army,
Terrestrial Tones,
Marc Almond,
The Victims,
Throbbing Gristle,
Black Pus,
Isaac Hayes,
the Human League,
The American Breed,
The Kinks,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Fugs,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Bauhaus,
Max Romeo,
Sam Rivers,
Joe Finger,
Pierre Henry,
Altered Images,
Sister Nancy,
Amon Düül II,
Roxette,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Mandrill,
Todd Terry,
Thee Headcoats,
Depeche Mode,
the Association,
Radio Birdman,
Nils Olav,
Eric B and Rakim,
Aloha Tigers,
Michelle Simonal,
Lyres,
Suicide,
Frankie Knuckles,
Scrapy,
Black Sheep,
Oneida,
Tres Demented,
Stiv Bators,
Camberwell Now,
Sixth Finger,
The Slackers,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Tomorrow,
Boredoms,
Trumans Water,
Angry Samoans,
Mo-Dettes,
Eurythmics,
The Gun Club,
David McCallum,
The Moody Blues,
These Immortal Souls,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.