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 Korea South and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Bremen.
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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Dave Gahan. All the underground hits.
All The Walker Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nils Olav record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ice-T,
Liliput,
Blancmange,
Black Flag,
Model 500,
Kerrie Biddell,
Mission of Burma,
David McCallum,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
ABBA,
Fugazi,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Fatback Band,
Ronan,
The Techniques,
David Axelrod,
Patti Smith,
Bad Manners,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Mark Hollis,
Beasts of Bourbon,
the Sonics,
Robert Hood,
Zero Boys,
Camberwell Now,
Piero Umiliani,
Wings,
Gichy Dan,
Procol Harum,
D'Angelo,
Ohio Players,
PIL,
Deadbeat,
The Fuzztones,
Brick,
Tubeway Army,
The Modern Lovers,
Godley & Creme,
Frankie Knuckles,
Maleditus Sound,
Simply Red,
Gang Starr,
Lou Christie,
Glambeats Corp.,
Suicide,
The Doors,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Visage,
Big Daddy Kane,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Rapeman,
Blake Baxter,
Nick Fraelich,
Marine Girls,
The Mojo Men,
The Martian,
The Gories,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light.
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.