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 Saudi Arabia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
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 Birthday Party to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Lonnie Liston Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kayak,
Albert Ayler,
Isaac Hayes,
Gichy Dan,
DNA,
the Slits,
Faust,
Faraquet,
Saccharine Trust,
Ossler,
The Gladiators,
The Seeds,
The Residents,
Marc Almond,
The Doors,
Brand Nubian,
Radio Birdman,
Lalann,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Lyres,
Au Pairs,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Quantec,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Saints,
T. Rex,
Duran Duran,
Derrick May,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Music Machine,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Buckinghams,
DJ Sneak,
Sparks,
Roger Hodgson,
Barbara Tucker,
Ultimate Spinach,
Anakelly,
Kool Moe Dee,
John Cale,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Pantaleimon,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Bang On A Can,
Idris Muhammad,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Quando Quango,
Godley & Creme,
Monks,
48th St. Collective,
Minutemen,
David McCallum,
The Shadows of Knight,
Johnny Clarke,
Tres Demented,
Icehouse,
Jacques Brel,
Blake Baxter,
F. McDonald,
Porter Ricks,
Livin' Joy,
Rakim,
Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants.
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.