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 Uzbekistan and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Angels of Light to the grime 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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All Al Stewart tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The New Christs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Darondo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
The Black Dice,
The Angels of Light,
Infiniti,
The Index,
Black Pus,
Parry Music,
Glenn Branca,
Los Fastidios,
The Dead C,
Easy Going,
Nils Olav,
Rufus Thomas,
Ossler,
Ponytail,
Johnny Osbourne,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Dave Gahan,
Supertramp,
The Shadows of Knight,
Nik Kershaw,
Barclay James Harvest,
Marmalade,
Henry Cow,
Lakeside,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Black Flag,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Minutemen,
Delta 5,
Bob Dylan,
Scion,
Joe Finger,
Darondo,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Gun Club,
Tropical Tobacco,
Harry Pussy,
Goldenarms,
Crooked Eye,
The Flesh Eaters,
H. Thieme,
The Stooges,
This Heat,
The Moleskins,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Donald Byrd,
New Order,
Black Moon,
Jerry's Kids,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Blake Baxter,
Roger Hodgson,
FM Einheit,
Yaz,
Heaven 17,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Deakin, Deakin, Deakin, Deakin.
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.