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 Laos and from Manila.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Swans to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Count Five. All the underground hits.
All Gastr Del Sol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terry Callier record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nico record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joy Division,
MC5,
Sex Pistols,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Negative Approach,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Soul II Soul,
Inner City,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Joyce Sims,
Pantaleimon,
Barclay James Harvest,
Sound Behaviour,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sight & Sound,
Vainqueur,
Eli Mardock,
Eric Copeland,
The Star Department,
Sexual Harrassment,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
X-101,
The Music Machine,
Roxette,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
B.T. Express,
Drive Like Jehu,
Tomorrow,
Lightning Bolt,
The Evens,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Soft Machine,
Reagan Youth,
Bobby Hutcherson,
R.M.O.,
The Gladiators,
Ohio Players,
Ken Boothe,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Grauzone,
Scott Walker,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Public Enemy,
Marc Almond,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Con Funk Shun,
Excepter,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Banda Bassotti,
AZ,
Anakelly,
Unrelated Segments,
Goldenarms,
kango's stein massive,
John Coltrane,
Vladislav Delay,
The Walker Brothers,
Tropical Tobacco,
John Holt,
the Human League,
H. Thieme,
Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley.
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.