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 Russia and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Eric B and Rakim to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Germs. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sandy B record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 48th St. Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hasil Adkins,
The Shadows of Knight,
a-ha,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
New York Dolls,
E-Dancer,
Deakin,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bang On A Can,
James White and The Blacks,
Dead Boys,
Blancmange,
Sun Ra,
The Toasters,
Con Funk Shun,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sam Rivers,
Young Marble Giants,
The Doobie Brothers,
Susan Cadogan,
New Age Steppers,
The Gap Band,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Althea and Donna,
Lalo Schifrin,
Kerri Chandler,
Wasted Youth,
Grandmaster Flash,
Suburban Knight,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bill Near,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Jeru the Damaja,
Das Ding,
Stiv Bators,
the Bar-Kays,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Joe Smooth,
John Cale,
Black Sheep,
Skarface,
Lyres,
Amon Düül,
Steve Hackett,
Marcia Griffiths,
Drexciya,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Knickerbockers,
The Alarm Clocks,
Neil Young,
Underground Resistance,
The United States of America,
The Mummies,
Essential Logic,
Suicide,
Youth Brigade,
The Kinks,
Bill Wells,
Glambeats Corp.,
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.