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 Korea South and from Philadelphia.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Black Moon to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Scrapy. All the underground hits.
All The Busters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pantytec 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?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Eve St. Jones,
Tubeway Army,
Amon Düül II,
Sugar Minott,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Dead Boys,
Skaos,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Circle Jerks,
Isaac Hayes,
the Association,
The Victims,
Tim Buckley,
Quantec,
Sixth Finger,
Adolescents,
Deepchord,
the Slits,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Alice Coltrane,
The Shadows of Knight,
Soul II Soul,
Gang Starr,
Crooked Eye,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Fortunes,
Livin' Joy,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Cure,
Glenn Branca,
Desert Stars,
Warren Ellis,
a-ha,
Arab on Radar,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Pretty Things,
Kool Moe Dee,
Wally Richardson,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Lee Hazlewood,
Harmonia,
The Knickerbockers,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Shuggie Otis,
The Red Krayola,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Slits,
Heaven 17,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Smoke,
Mr. Review,
Outsiders,
Massinfluence,
David Bowie,
Roxy Music,
Zapp,
Tres Demented,
Pantytec,
Kurtis Blow,
Unwound,
Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip.
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.