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 Philippines and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 Tehran and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 linndrum 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 Moebius to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Todd Rundgren. All the underground hits.
All Terror Squad Feat. Camron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every R.M.O. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moody Blues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
Juan Atkins,
Jeff Mills,
Black Sheep,
Easy Going,
Todd Terry,
Soul II Soul,
One Last Wish,
The J.B.'s,
Eve St. Jones,
Loose Ends,
Minny Pops,
Lungfish,
Bobby Sherman,
Second Layer,
John Lydon,
The Standells,
Fela Kuti,
Brass Construction,
Procol Harum,
Mandrill,
The Grass Roots,
Lakeside,
The Gladiators,
James White and The Blacks,
Scion,
The Count Five,
Shoche,
Qualms,
The Birthday Party,
Make Up,
Morten Harket,
Talk Talk,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ponytail,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sun City Girls,
Ultravox,
Roxette,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
cv313,
Byron Stingily,
Sight & Sound,
Nation of Ulysses,
Jesper Dahlback,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Real Kids,
The Associates,
The Move,
The Raincoats,
Alison Limerick,
Yaz,
Brand Nubian,
Can,
Sexual Harrassment,
Howard Jones,
Excepter,
UT,
Amazonics,
Cal Tjader,
The Offenders,
Jerry Gold Smith,
the Slits, the Slits, the Slits, the Slits.
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.