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 Botswana and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro 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 Darondo 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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Youth Brigade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doobie Brothers,
The Toasters,
Masters at Work,
Barry Ungar,
Swans,
The Black Dice,
Slick Rick,
Eric Dolphy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Cramps,
Qualms,
Surgeon,
Chris Corsano,
Lyres,
Vainqueur,
Scan 7,
Marcia Griffiths,
K-Klass,
The Red Krayola,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Talk Talk,
ABBA,
Joey Negro,
Circle Jerks,
In Retrospect,
Hasil Adkins,
Cheater Slicks,
Matthew Bourne,
Deadbeat,
Drive Like Jehu,
LL Cool J,
Jesper Dahlback,
Kerri Chandler,
Fela Kuti,
The Move,
The Zeros,
Guru Guru,
The J.B.'s,
Whodini,
Clear Light,
The Slits,
The Grass Roots,
Marine Girls,
Amon Düül,
Bluetip,
Dave Gahan,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Sonics,
World's Most,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Roger Hodgson,
Reuben Wilson,
Mr. Review,
China Crisis,
Neu!,
The Cosmic Jokers,
48th St. Collective,
Patti Smith,
Blancmange,
Cameo,
The Seeds,
David Axelrod, David Axelrod, David Axelrod, David Axelrod.
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.