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 Tajikistan and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Drexciya to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Popol Vuh. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Moon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boz Scaggs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Trumans Water,
Johnny Osbourne,
Gang Gang Dance,
Alton Ellis,
Black Moon,
Fear,
The Cure,
Boz Scaggs,
Bill Wells,
Scion,
Wolf Eyes,
Marc Almond,
DNA,
Drexciya,
the Human League,
Marshall Jefferson,
Heaven 17,
Bizarre Inc.,
cv313,
The Shadows of Knight,
Minny Pops,
Erykah Badu,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Durutti Column,
Scan 7,
The Index,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Hot Snakes,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Newcleus,
The Slits,
Drive Like Jehu,
Index,
China Crisis,
Peter & Gordon,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Monks,
Motorama,
Quantec,
Camouflage,
Deepchord,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Scrapy,
Angry Samoans,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Cluster,
Jeff Mills,
Fat Boys,
New York Dolls,
Robert Wyatt,
Isaac Hayes,
Eve St. Jones,
Aaron Thompson,
Mr. Review,
Section 25,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Malaria!,
Spandau Ballet,
World's Most,
La Düsseldorf,
Flipper, Flipper, Flipper, Flipper.
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.