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 San Marino and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Liaisons Dangereuses to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Barracudas. All the underground hits.
All Arcadia tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minutemen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Evens,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Rod Modell,
Zero Boys,
B.T. Express,
Bootsy Collins,
Juan Atkins,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Visage,
OOIOO,
Rufus Thomas,
Make Up,
The Litter,
The Modern Lovers,
Darondo,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Red Krayola,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Schoolly D,
Theoretical Girls,
Saccharine Trust,
Altered Images,
Little Man,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Echospace,
Subhumans,
Carl Craig,
Rekid,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Qualms,
Kaleidoscope,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Soft Cell,
Cal Tjader,
Scott Walker,
Infiniti,
Eric Copeland,
Bobby Womack,
Gabor Szabo,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ronnie Foster,
Porter Ricks,
Clear Light,
Mantronix,
Marine Girls,
Shuggie Otis,
Black Sheep,
DJ Sneak,
Television,
Lower 48,
Albert Ayler,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Alison Limerick,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Detroit Cobras,
Harry Pussy,
Interpol,
Fad Gadget,
The Dirtbombs,
Sex Pistols,
The Gap Band,
Tres Demented,
Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now.
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.