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 Algeria and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 Winnipeg and Columbus.
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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 John Coltrane to the electroclash 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 The Sound. All the underground hits.
All Interpol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Smog 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
One Last Wish,
Freddie Wadling,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Sisters of Mercy,
F. McDonald,
Anakelly,
Robert Hood,
Cecil Taylor,
U.S. Maple,
Arcadia,
Rod Modell,
The Last Poets,
Mo-Dettes,
The Motions,
Audionom,
Alton Ellis,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Marmalade,
Black Pus,
Panda Bear,
Wire,
Marc Almond,
Kerrie Biddell,
Colin Newman,
Junior Murvin,
The Fuzztones,
A Certain Ratio,
John Cale,
Lucky Dragons,
The Techniques,
Country Teasers,
Fatback Band,
Ossler,
Bush Tetras,
Niagra,
the Normal,
Jawbox,
Tom Boy,
Al Stewart,
The Offenders,
Neil Young,
Joe Smooth,
the Bar-Kays,
Anthony Braxton,
EPMD,
Dawn Penn,
E-Dancer,
Negative Approach,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Human League,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Lalann,
Sixth Finger,
Malaria!,
Donny Hathaway,
Fugazi,
Suburban Knight,
The Pretty Things,
Lee Hazlewood,
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.