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 Ireland and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 The Walker Brothers to the crunk 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 Agitation Free. All the underground hits.
All Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Leonard Cohen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jawbox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
Little Man,
June of 44,
Cheater Slicks,
The Blues Magoos,
Harpers Bizarre,
Fela Kuti,
The Cure,
Ohio Players,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Pet Shop Boys,
Curtis Mayfield,
X-Ray Spex,
Easy Going,
Laurel Aitken,
Circle Jerks,
Hot Snakes,
The Fire Engines,
Jesper Dahlback,
U.S. Maple,
London Community Gospel Choir,
New Order,
Bob Dylan,
Country Teasers,
Gang Starr,
The New Christs,
The Zeros,
Kurtis Blow,
James White and The Blacks,
Susan Cadogan,
Depeche Mode,
The Barracudas,
Alphaville,
Mad Mike,
Ultra Naté,
Magazine,
Moby Grape,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Severed Heads,
A Certain Ratio,
Warsaw,
The Alarm Clocks,
Technova,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Marvin Gaye,
Theoretical Girls,
Newcleus,
the Swans,
Bobby Womack,
Neu!,
Barrington Levy,
Boogie Down Productions,
Harry Pussy,
Aswad,
The Seeds,
Derrick Morgan,
Harmonia,
Unrelated Segments,
Swans,
Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia.
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.