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 Zimbabwe and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 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 Yaz to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Standells. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker + Sunn O))) tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spandau Ballet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Mojo Men,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
In Retrospect,
Mr. Review,
Au Pairs,
ABBA,
The Star Department,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Detroit Cobras,
Barbara Tucker,
Underground Resistance,
T.S.O.L.,
Sällskapet,
Eve St. Jones,
Anakelly,
Joe Finger,
Boz Scaggs,
Arcadia,
The Dave Clark Five,
Ludus,
Suburban Knight,
Television,
Swans,
EPMD,
Boogie Down Productions,
Stetsasonic,
Accadde A,
New York Dolls,
Johnny Osbourne,
the Fania All-Stars,
Oneida,
Youth Brigade,
Max Romeo,
Deadbeat,
James White and The Blacks,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Aswad,
Rufus Thomas,
Carl Craig,
Tres Demented,
Aural Exciters,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Brand Nubian,
Swell Maps,
Soulsonic Force,
Morten Harket,
Patti Smith,
New Order,
Public Enemy,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Animal Collective,
Metal Thangz,
Black Sheep,
L. Decosne,
Brick,
MC5,
Sonic Youth,
Electric Prunes,
Scion,
Byron Stingily,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work.
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.