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 Finland and from Spokane.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 Captain Beefheart 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 The Divine Comedy to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Thompson Twins. All the underground hits.
All Country Teasers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pole record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lou Reed,
The Slits,
Bush Tetras,
Dark Day,
La Düsseldorf,
Hardrive,
Radiohead,
Hoover,
Barry Ungar,
Funkadelic,
Joey Negro,
Tropical Tobacco,
Oblivians,
The Velvet Underground,
Mr. Review,
Ituana,
T. Rex,
Black Moon,
Fela Kuti,
Tubeway Army,
Alison Limerick,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Mars,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Brand Nubian,
The Moody Blues,
Faust,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Al Stewart,
Sarah Menescal,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Cybotron,
The Names,
T.S.O.L.,
The Sisters of Mercy,
the Soft Cell,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Barrington Levy,
Reagan Youth,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pulsallama,
Avey Tare,
Amon Düül,
Wings,
Lalo Schifrin,
Rapeman,
The Gladiators,
Althea and Donna,
Rekid,
Amon Düül II,
Ludus,
Circle Jerks,
Excepter,
Lindisfarne,
The Electric Prunes,
JFA,
The Red Krayola,
The Happenings,
The Sonics,
Hashim, Hashim, Hashim, Hashim.
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.