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 Swaziland and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in 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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Copenhagen.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Fuzztones 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 Schoolly D. All the underground hits.
All The J.B.'s tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New York Dolls,
Agent Orange,
Cybotron,
Roger Hodgson,
Rufus Thomas,
The Dave Clark Five,
Toni Rubio,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Mission of Burma,
Blake Baxter,
B.T. Express,
The Stooges,
Sällskapet,
Crime,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Dual Sessions,
E-Dancer,
Hasil Adkins,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Quadrant,
48th St. Collective,
Organ,
Byron Stingily,
the Soft Cell,
Andrew Hill,
Hoover,
Monolake,
Porter Ricks,
Leonard Cohen,
Fluxion,
Buzzcocks,
Flash Fearless,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Smoke,
Avey Tare,
The Sonics,
Al Stewart,
The Trojans,
Faust,
Camberwell Now,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Underground Resistance,
The Monks,
Scott Walker,
Boz Scaggs,
DNA,
The Gories,
Ice-T,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Roxy Music,
X-Ray Spex,
The Skatalites,
Tommy Roe,
Echospace,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Mad Mike,
Depeche Mode,
The Move,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Donny Hathaway,
Thee Headcoats,
The Vogues,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.