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 Bhutan and from Mexico City.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Johannesburg.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The Saints to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All Warren Ellis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Warsaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nico,
Prince Buster,
Ten City,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
A Certain Ratio,
Banda Bassotti,
Cal Tjader,
Television,
Derrick May,
The Invisible,
Lalann,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Buckinghams,
Barbara Tucker,
Aloha Tigers,
Parry Music,
Minor Threat,
Faraquet,
The Wake,
Yazoo,
Peter & Gordon,
Tubeway Army,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Harmonia,
Alton Ellis,
Throbbing Gristle,
Mission of Burma,
The Durutti Column,
Eric B and Rakim,
Spandau Ballet,
Unrelated Segments,
F. McDonald,
Erasure,
Little Man,
Zapp,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sugar Minott,
Frankie Knuckles,
Howard Jones,
cv313,
Max Romeo,
The Barracudas,
Tears for Fears,
The Saints,
Jawbox,
Thompson Twins,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Cowsills,
Leonard Cohen,
Suburban Knight,
Crooked Eye,
The Names,
Rosa Yemen,
Shuggie Otis,
48th St. Collective,
Black Pus,
R.M.O.,
The Dave Clark Five,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Kaleidoscope,
Kayak,
X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex.
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.