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 Equatorial Guinea and from Copenhagen.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Dead C to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Youth Brigade. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faraquet 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gabor Szabo,
Ludus,
The Techniques,
Tropical Tobacco,
Infiniti,
The Golliwogs,
The Real Kids,
Young Marble Giants,
Lightning Bolt,
Gang Starr,
Connie Case,
A Certain Ratio,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Franke,
Jacques Brel,
the Germs,
Soft Cell,
The Moody Blues,
Albert Ayler,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Roy Ayers,
Buzzcocks,
Theoretical Girls,
Matthew Halsall,
Sonic Youth,
Public Enemy,
The Gories,
New Age Steppers,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Subhumans,
The Walker Brothers,
Robert Görl,
Grauzone,
Malaria!,
Ten City,
Howard Jones,
Matthew Bourne,
Whodini,
John Coltrane,
Livin' Joy,
The Fall,
Erasure,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
U.S. Maple,
Saccharine Trust,
Mark Hollis,
F. McDonald,
Cluster,
Qualms,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Standells,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Doors,
Sister Nancy,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Trojans,
The Zeros,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Hasil Adkins,
Chris Corsano,
Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic.
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.