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 Ivory Coast and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Nico 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 Marc Almond. All the underground hits.
All The Barracudas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faust record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Detroit Cobras,
Black Flag,
X-102,
Aswad,
Monks,
The American Breed,
Amon Düül,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Robert Wyatt,
Banda Bassotti,
Von Mondo,
Simply Red,
The Five Americans,
Nas,
the Germs,
Can,
Warren Ellis,
Mo-Dettes,
Maleditus Sound,
The Sonics,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Fuzztones,
The Black Dice,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Tropical Tobacco,
Kaleidoscope,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pussy Galore,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Echospace,
Bill Near,
Gregory Isaacs,
Pantytec,
Electric Prunes,
Panda Bear,
Severed Heads,
The Real Kids,
The Fall,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Intrusion,
Mission of Burma,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Tom Boy,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
F. McDonald,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Remains,
Underground Resistance,
Television,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Junior Murvin,
Franke,
E-Dancer,
The Gories,
Ken Boothe,
Isaac Hayes,
Scion,
Flipper, Flipper, Flipper, Flipper.
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.