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 Swaziland and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 James Chance & The Contortions to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 PIL. All the underground hits.
All Hot Snakes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Banda Bassotti 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Royal Trux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
Radio Birdman,
Mr. Review,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Residents,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Jawbox,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ronan,
MDC,
David McCallum,
The Martian,
Skaos,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Masters at Work,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Zeros,
Minutemen,
Lalo Schifrin,
The New Christs,
Eric B and Rakim,
Livin' Joy,
New Age Steppers,
The Electric Prunes,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Magazine,
Magma,
Johnny Clarke,
the Human League,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Severed Heads,
Outsiders,
The Invisible,
Joey Negro,
Bobby Sherman,
Minny Pops,
The Golliwogs,
Derrick Morgan,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Eric Dolphy,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Eve St. Jones,
Rakim,
Toni Rubio,
Cluster,
Gong,
Nils Olav,
Harry Pussy,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Electric Prunes,
Goldenarms,
Schoolly D,
Infiniti,
The Fortunes,
New Order,
The Durutti Column,
Rod Modell,
Faust,
June Days, June Days, June Days, June Days.
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.