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 Lithuania and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 theremin 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 Jimmy McGriff to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 U.S. Maple. All the underground hits.
All Aloha Tigers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Order record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
The Stooges,
Lucky Dragons,
The Seeds,
Cheater Slicks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Q and Not U,
Fela Kuti,
Groovy Waters,
Donald Byrd,
Qualms,
Surgeon,
The Barracudas,
World's Most,
EPMD,
Dead Boys,
Pagans,
Sällskapet,
Bauhaus,
Echospace,
Angry Samoans,
the Sonics,
The Cramps,
Laurel Aitken,
Subhumans,
Make Up,
The Star Department,
Iggy Pop,
Lyres,
Babytalk,
John Foxx,
Gerry Rafferty,
Byron Stingily,
Jeru the Damaja,
Grauzone,
Yellowson,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Misunderstood,
Peter and Kerry,
Ornette Coleman,
Rotary Connection,
Freddie Wadling,
Hasil Adkins,
The Martian,
In Retrospect,
Yaz,
the Association,
The Wake,
Sun City Girls,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sonic Youth,
Television Personalities,
K-Klass,
Wasted Youth,
Crash Course in Science,
Severed Heads,
Clear Light,
The Residents,
Prince Buster,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Youth Brigade,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.