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 Uzbekistan and from Manila.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Fifty Foot Hose. All the underground hits.
All The Gladiators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rahsaan Roland Kirk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Pussy Galore,
Interpol,
Gichy Dan,
Darondo,
Matthew Halsall,
Scientists,
Pagans,
The Raincoats,
Ice-T,
Mo-Dettes,
Magazine,
The Fall,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Todd Terry,
Radio Birdman,
Y Pants,
the Sonics,
Black Bananas,
Byron Stingily,
Eric Copeland,
The Fire Engines,
The Angels of Light,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Wake,
The Skatalites,
Albert Ayler,
Aswad,
Lou Reed,
The Toasters,
John Lydon,
Ohio Players,
Traffic Nightmare,
Qualms,
Gang of Four,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sight & Sound,
The Saints,
Dave Gahan,
Dorothy Ashby,
Banda Bassotti,
Junior Murvin,
D'Angelo,
The Doors,
Sparks,
Brick,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Knickerbockers,
Donny Hathaway,
Mary Jane Girls,
Heaven 17,
Pierre Henry,
Second Layer,
Derrick Morgan,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Index,
Alton Ellis,
Adolescents,
Robert Görl,
The Grass Roots,
Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt.
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.