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 Bhutan and from New York.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 spring reverb 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 Johnny Clarke to the rap 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 Wally Richardson. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Almond 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sixth Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Mandrill,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Offenders,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Tomorrow,
Flash Fearless,
Junior Murvin,
Franke,
Oneida,
The Martian,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Unrelated Segments,
Pere Ubu,
Half Japanese,
Todd Terry,
Monolake,
The Durutti Column,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bill Wells,
Gang Green,
The Saints,
Laurel Aitken,
Jerry's Kids,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Anthony Braxton,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Misunderstood,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Patti Smith,
Pagans,
Kevin Saunderson,
David Bowie,
Byron Stingily,
Eden Ahbez,
Connie Case,
The Cowsills,
Reagan Youth,
The Monochrome Set,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Moby Grape,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Five Americans,
Mr. Review,
Sixth Finger,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Barbara Tucker,
Stiv Bators,
The Angels of Light,
Severed Heads,
Alice Coltrane,
Organ,
Moebius,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gichy Dan,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
a-ha,
The Residents,
Howard Jones,
Marc Almond,
Traffic Nightmare,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.