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 Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Cluster to the electroclash 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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dark Day 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
Henry Cow,
Boz Scaggs,
Deepchord,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Skatalites,
Cybotron,
Banda Bassotti,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Five Americans,
Hot Snakes,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bootsy Collins,
Scratch Acid,
Visage,
Flipper,
Spandau Ballet,
Nirvana,
Japan,
China Crisis,
Brand Nubian,
The Trojans,
Liliput,
The Blackbyrds,
Nas,
Gang of Four,
The Beau Brummels,
Jerry's Kids,
Magma,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Raincoats,
Boredoms,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Misunderstood,
Piero Umiliani,
The Vogues,
Agitation Free,
Loose Ends,
Bill Wells,
Nils Olav,
Fear,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
kango's stein massive,
Todd Rundgren,
Schoolly D,
Hardrive,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Minny Pops,
The Smoke,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Index,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Pere Ubu,
Mission of Burma,
Mark Hollis,
Make Up,
Main Source,
Basic Channel,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Dead C,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.