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 Angola and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Martian to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moody Blues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deakin,
John Holt,
Joe Finger,
Vladislav Delay,
Marmalade,
Icehouse,
James White and The Blacks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Anakelly,
Colin Newman,
Rod Modell,
Traffic Nightmare,
Harry Pussy,
China Crisis,
Tim Buckley,
Groovy Waters,
Matthew Halsall,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Delta 5,
the Germs,
La Düsseldorf,
Bizarre Inc.,
Ultimate Spinach,
Depeche Mode,
The Happenings,
Section 25,
Kaleidoscope,
AZ,
Animal Collective,
Girls At Our Best!,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sarah Menescal,
Skaos,
Lyres,
Harpers Bizarre,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Fuzztones,
Grey Daturas,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Joey Negro,
Robert Hood,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Star Department,
Boz Scaggs,
Rites of Spring,
Darondo,
Al Stewart,
Blossom Toes,
Ornette Coleman,
Adolescents,
Easy Going,
Susan Cadogan,
Average White Band,
Moebius,
Loose Ends,
Soft Cell,
Agitation Free,
Dorothy Ashby,
Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler.
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.