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 East Timor and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Zeros to the rap 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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Larry & the Blue Notes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
Minny Pops,
The United States of America,
Black Moon,
The Smiths,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bizarre Inc.,
Oneida,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Nation of Ulysses,
Big Daddy Kane,
Eden Ahbez,
The Slackers,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
John Lydon,
La Düsseldorf,
Dual Sessions,
Eric B and Rakim,
Rotary Connection,
Tom Boy,
The American Breed,
Mars,
The Monks,
The Cramps,
48th St. Collective,
X-102,
the Normal,
Skaos,
Urselle,
The Moody Blues,
Ponytail,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Index,
Wire,
Camberwell Now,
Junior Murvin,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Darondo,
Niagra,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Altered Images,
The Birthday Party,
Alison Limerick,
Graham Central Station,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Jandek,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Toni Rubio,
Davy DMX,
Grandmaster Flash,
Model 500,
Cal Tjader,
The Searchers,
Sun City Girls,
Howard Jones,
The Mummies,
JFA,
Faust,
the Soft Cell,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Star Department,
Pet Shop Boys,
Fela Kuti,
Sparks, Sparks, Sparks, Sparks.
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.