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 Kiribati 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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe 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 Angels of Light to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Stiv Bators. All the underground hits.
All A Certain Ratio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T.S.O.L. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
PIL,
Inner City,
The Remains,
Wings,
Chris Corsano,
The Trojans,
Traffic Nightmare,
Eric Dolphy,
Godley & Creme,
Crispian St. Peters,
Curtis Mayfield,
Underground Resistance,
LL Cool J,
Josef K,
June Days,
The Wake,
The Index,
Harry Pussy,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fear,
L. Decosne,
Ludus,
Warren Ellis,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Victims,
The Real Kids,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
James White and The Blacks,
Mo-Dettes,
Marmalade,
Ronnie Foster,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Sonics,
OOIOO,
Terrestrial Tones,
Supertramp,
David Bowie,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Man Eating Sloth,
Schoolly D,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Smoke,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sonic Youth,
Minny Pops,
Echospace,
John Cale,
Camouflage,
Moebius,
Lou Christie,
Delta 5,
Kayak,
Pole,
Sister Nancy,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
UT,
Jawbox,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
B.T. Express,
Altered Images, Altered Images, Altered Images, Altered Images.
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.