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 Jordan and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 mellotron 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 Youth Brigade to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Marcia Griffiths. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Style 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magma,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Trojans,
Joe Smooth,
B.T. Express,
Can,
Traffic Nightmare,
Trumans Water,
Los Fastidios,
The Flesh Eaters,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Suicide,
Das Ding,
T. Rex,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Victims,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Khruangbin,
Chris & Cosey,
EPMD,
Funkadelic,
The Modern Lovers,
Tres Demented,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mars,
Franke,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Mary Jane Girls,
Rosa Yemen,
E-Dancer,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Vladislav Delay,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Evens,
Wings,
Lalann,
Marine Girls,
Y Pants,
the Sonics,
Siglo XX,
The Busters,
Quando Quango,
The Grass Roots,
Monolake,
Max Romeo,
Nick Fraelich,
Roxette,
L. Decosne,
Sex Pistols,
U.S. Maple,
Spandau Ballet,
Cybotron,
Camberwell Now,
Boredoms,
The Cure,
The Techniques,
New York Dolls,
Harmonia,
Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord.
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.