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 France and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 spring reverb 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 Dead C to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Popol Vuh. All the underground hits.
All Bronski Beat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultravox 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 sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Victims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sällskapet,
Country Teasers,
The Litter,
Eden Ahbez,
The Zeros,
June Days,
Television,
F. McDonald,
Thee Headcoats,
The Gap Band,
The Saints,
Camouflage,
Gastr Del Sol,
Rites of Spring,
Hashim,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Gichy Dan,
Robert Wyatt,
Judy Mowatt,
Josef K,
Eric B and Rakim,
Jeff Lynne,
Rotary Connection,
Crime,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Walker Brothers,
New Order,
Roxette,
Public Enemy,
Pylon,
Ice-T,
Arcadia,
Black Sheep,
T. Rex,
Glenn Branca,
OOIOO,
The Smiths,
ABBA,
Juan Atkins,
Donny Hathaway,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Joy Division,
R.M.O.,
The Sound,
the Swans,
Quadrant,
Procol Harum,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Radio Birdman,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Peter and Kerry,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Q65,
Scrapy,
Rosa Yemen,
Warren Ellis,
Amon Düül,
Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo.
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.