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 Jordan and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Aloha Tigers to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All Sparks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Amazonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Young Rascals,
Guru Guru,
Vladislav Delay,
Rufus Thomas,
X-Ray Spex,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Real Kids,
Black Flag,
The Stooges,
Talk Talk,
Heaven 17,
Anthony Braxton,
Marine Girls,
The Gladiators,
H. Thieme,
Lou Christie,
Lightning Bolt,
Funkadelic,
The Doors,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Yazoo,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Skarface,
Average White Band,
Simply Red,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Ludus,
T.S.O.L.,
Brothers Johnson,
Sexual Harrassment,
Q65,
Althea and Donna,
Aaron Thompson,
Gang Starr,
Matthew Bourne,
Scott Walker,
Electric Prunes,
The Gap Band,
The United States of America,
Warsaw,
Sonic Youth,
The Techniques,
Camouflage,
Jeru the Damaja,
Monks,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Desert Stars,
June Days,
Aural Exciters,
The Martian,
Lucky Dragons,
James White and The Blacks,
Tears for Fears,
Deadbeat,
Oneida,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Connie Case,
The Blackbyrds,
Gang of Four,
Franke, Franke, Franke, Franke.
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.