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 Venezuela and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 808 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the rock 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 Lou Reed & Metallica. All the underground hits.
All It's A Beautiful Day tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Inner City 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Wyatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Chrome,
The Stooges,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Camberwell Now,
Eli Mardock,
Barry Ungar,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Alice Coltrane,
June of 44,
Radio Birdman,
Max Romeo,
Connie Case,
Jawbox,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Mandrill,
The Index,
Mark Hollis,
The Raincoats,
Electric Prunes,
Gang of Four,
the Germs,
Mission of Burma,
Altered Images,
Gabor Szabo,
Godley & Creme,
Television,
Surgeon,
Frankie Knuckles,
Minutemen,
Slave,
Blossom Toes,
R.M.O.,
Tres Demented,
Los Fastidios,
Boredoms,
Jerry's Kids,
Wings,
Youth Brigade,
Todd Terry,
Fat Boys,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
T. Rex,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
ABC,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ice-T,
Tom Boy,
Popol Vuh,
Joy Division,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Walker Brothers,
Aaron Thompson,
Tomorrow,
The Happenings,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Patti Smith,
The Pop Group,
Mo-Dettes,
The Dave Clark Five,
Bobby Byrd,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.