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 Somalia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Infiniti 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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All K-Klass tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Los Fastidios record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sparks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Swell Maps,
Man Eating Sloth,
Malaria!,
Bobby Womack,
Warsaw,
Essential Logic,
Roxy Music,
Jawbox,
The Golliwogs,
T. Rex,
Groovy Waters,
Jesper Dahlback,
John Holt,
Andrew Hill,
Cluster,
Reuben Wilson,
Tom Boy,
The Monochrome Set,
Girls At Our Best!,
Make Up,
Maleditus Sound,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
A Certain Ratio,
The Vogues,
The Martian,
Wings,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Agitation Free,
New York Dolls,
Mission of Burma,
Fatback Band,
The Last Poets,
Davy DMX,
Harpers Bizarre,
Jacques Brel,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Saints,
The Stooges,
Sister Nancy,
cv313,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Happenings,
H. Thieme,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Detroit Cobras,
Basic Channel,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Judy Mowatt,
Bootsy Collins,
Flash Fearless,
Lou Christie,
The Seeds,
Kas Product,
Fluxion,
The Young Rascals,
Accadde A,
Inner City,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jandek,
Guru Guru,
Shuggie Otis,
Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day.
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.