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 Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and London.
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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the snare 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 Boredoms to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Residents. All the underground hits.
All Country Joe & The Fish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Rundgren,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Slackers,
Alison Limerick,
Brick,
Radio Birdman,
Bob Dylan,
Crooked Eye,
Pagans,
Gang Green,
Fatback Band,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ultimate Spinach,
Desert Stars,
Wings,
Mary Jane Girls,
Dawn Penn,
UT,
Harry Pussy,
Faraquet,
Kerri Chandler,
PIL,
Lyres,
Alice Coltrane,
Ronan,
Saccharine Trust,
Susan Cadogan,
The Mummies,
Peter & Gordon,
Donald Byrd,
Sparks,
Amon Düül II,
Sister Nancy,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Aloha Tigers,
Spoonie Gee,
the Germs,
the Swans,
the Association,
Lakeside,
Electric Prunes,
Au Pairs,
Trumans Water,
Johnny Osbourne,
Newcleus,
Gastr Del Sol,
Y Pants,
Dorothy Ashby,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gabor Szabo,
Rekid,
Barclay James Harvest,
Marmalade,
Crispian St. Peters,
Youth Brigade,
Dual Sessions,
Pole,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Agitation Free,
The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes.
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.