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 Taiwan and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the güiro 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 It's A Beautiful Day. All the underground hits.
All The Music Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gun Club record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Moleskins,
The Dirtbombs,
Marcia Griffiths,
Aaron Thompson,
Jimmy McGriff,
Man Parrish,
Ten City,
Qualms,
Dark Day,
Delon & Dalcan,
Matthew Halsall,
John Foxx,
Buzzcocks,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Dennis Brown,
U.S. Maple,
Index,
Nils Olav,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Deadbeat,
The Doors,
Maleditus Sound,
The Human League,
The Raincoats,
Livin' Joy,
Prince Buster,
Royal Trux,
PIL,
Agitation Free,
Pole,
James White and The Blacks,
Au Pairs,
New Order,
Nik Kershaw,
Echospace,
Cheater Slicks,
Ponytail,
Camberwell Now,
The Busters,
Arcadia,
Wally Richardson,
Pantytec,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Divine Comedy,
The Saints,
Scion,
David Bowie,
Joy Division,
The Gun Club,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Gladiators,
The Gories,
Public Image Ltd.,
Japan,
Mandrill,
Unrelated Segments,
Alphaville,
Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight.
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.