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 Sierra Leone and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 theremin 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 Stiv Bators to the rock 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 Iggy Pop. All the underground hits.
All Connie Case tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Basic Channel 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tubeway Army,
The Monks,
Unrelated Segments,
Black Bananas,
Technova,
Hot Snakes,
The Seeds,
John Foxx,
The Detroit Cobras,
Matthew Bourne,
Faraquet,
The Gories,
New York Dolls,
Tommy Roe,
Blancmange,
Sun City Girls,
cv313,
Echospace,
John Lydon,
Swell Maps,
Newcleus,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Blues Magoos,
Stockholm Monsters,
KRS-One,
Swans,
Dawn Penn,
World's Most,
Kas Product,
Bobby Womack,
Altered Images,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Toasters,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Searchers,
Marvin Gaye,
The Names,
The Neon Judgement,
The Fortunes,
Althea and Donna,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Rosa Yemen,
Peter & Gordon,
Glambeats Corp.,
Gregory Isaacs,
the Slits,
Von Mondo,
Delon & Dalcan,
Jesper Dahlback,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Cecil Taylor,
The Music Machine,
Desert Stars,
Fugazi,
Skriet,
The Trojans,
Henry Cow,
Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot.
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.