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 Somalia and from Seoul.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Josef K 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 Barry Ungar. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sunsets and Hearts,
Crooked Eye,
Metal Thangz,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Skriet,
Gang of Four,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Glambeats Corp.,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Gun Club,
Electric Prunes,
Surgeon,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Ronan,
Bad Manners,
Mars,
Peter and Kerry,
Hoover,
The Toasters,
The Cure,
Bob Dylan,
Lou Reed,
the Normal,
John Lydon,
Yusef Lateef,
Mantronix,
Deakin,
One Last Wish,
Deadbeat,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Robert Görl,
Tomorrow,
Fela Kuti,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Roxette,
Zapp,
The Slackers,
Faraquet,
Joy Division,
The Litter,
Das Ding,
Lyres,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Misunderstood,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ponytail,
Panda Bear,
Sam Rivers,
Ossler,
Minny Pops,
Jeff Lynne,
Danielle Patucci,
The Mojo Men,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Guru Guru,
The Invisible,
Pylon,
Roxy Music,
Silicon Teens, Silicon Teens, Silicon Teens, Silicon Teens.
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.