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 United States and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the oboe 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 The Tremeloes to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Fugs. All the underground hits.
All Adolescents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pet Shop Boys 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quantec record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Beau Brummels,
Faust,
8 Eyed Spy,
Circle Jerks,
Gregory Isaacs,
Man Eating Sloth,
Hoover,
John Holt,
Grey Daturas,
Make Up,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Tropical Tobacco,
Gichy Dan,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Shoche,
Angry Samoans,
Moss Icon,
New Age Steppers,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
OOIOO,
Barbara Tucker,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Excepter,
Public Image Ltd.,
Derrick May,
Slick Rick,
Depeche Mode,
David Axelrod,
Reuben Wilson,
Flamin' Groovies,
Maleditus Sound,
Skaos,
Easy Going,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Das Ding,
The Divine Comedy,
LL Cool J,
Kenny Larkin,
James White and The Blacks,
Derrick Morgan,
Howard Jones,
Rod Modell,
Patti Smith,
Boz Scaggs,
Piero Umiliani,
Joey Negro,
Alphaville,
Lindisfarne,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Residents,
The Young Rascals,
Rakim,
Gerry Rafferty,
Stiv Bators,
The Fortunes,
Wasted Youth,
Nik Kershaw,
Gong,
Ten City,
Pussy Galore,
Harpers Bizarre,
UT, UT, UT, UT.
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.