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 Brunei and from Woodstock.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Star Department to the crunk 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 Lee Hazlewood. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faust 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
Guru Guru,
MDC,
Pantytec,
the Soft Cell,
The Pop Group,
DJ Sneak,
Lightning Bolt,
The Fall,
Malaria!,
Ice-T,
Ken Boothe,
Boredoms,
Brand Nubian,
FM Einheit,
the Sonics,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Fela Kuti,
Technova,
UT,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Clear Light,
Judy Mowatt,
Minny Pops,
T. Rex,
The Monochrome Set,
Stockholm Monsters,
Excepter,
Crime,
Symarip,
Gerry Rafferty,
Scientists,
The Fortunes,
Gong,
Porter Ricks,
Kevin Saunderson,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
X-Ray Spex,
One Last Wish,
The American Breed,
Cybotron,
Rekid,
The Mojo Men,
L. Decosne,
Fear,
Infiniti,
Yusef Lateef,
The New Christs,
The Misunderstood,
Aswad,
Goldenarms,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Arcadia,
Al Stewart,
The Shadows of Knight,
Pussy Galore,
Royal Trux,
E-Dancer,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Y Pants,
Dead Boys,
The J.B.'s,
Essential Logic,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.