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 Slovenia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and New York.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Fugazi to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Glenn Branca. All the underground hits.
All Mission of Burma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive 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 sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry's Kids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Derrick May,
Cecil Taylor,
Glenn Branca,
Mission of Burma,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Rapeman,
Public Enemy,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Mad Mike,
The New Christs,
The Move,
Scrapy,
Clear Light,
Swans,
This Heat,
Infiniti,
June Days,
Mantronix,
Panda Bear,
Reuben Wilson,
Bobby Womack,
Funky Four + One,
Kerri Chandler,
Joey Negro,
Godley & Creme,
Crispian St. Peters,
La Düsseldorf,
Donald Byrd,
Ultravox,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Hoover,
Black Flag,
The Cramps,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Metal Thangz,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sandy B,
The Busters,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Gang Starr,
The Five Americans,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Procol Harum,
Ossler,
Gil Scott Heron,
Harry Pussy,
CMW,
Depeche Mode,
Quando Quango,
Angry Samoans,
China Crisis,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Dave Gahan,
Traffic Nightmare,
Andrew Hill,
the Slits,
The Gun Club,
Thee Headcoats,
The Modern Lovers,
Gang Gang Dance,
Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine.
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.