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 Pakistan and from Philadelphia.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 mellotron 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 Tomorrow to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Henry Cow. All the underground hits.
All World's Most tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Manfred Mann's Earth Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Buzzcocks,
Mr. Review,
Bob Dylan,
Judy Mowatt,
Bill Wells,
Gang Starr,
Don Cherry,
Circle Jerks,
Amon Düül II,
Jimmy McGriff,
Harmonia,
Youth Brigade,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ronan,
Faraquet,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Happenings,
Freddie Wadling,
Eli Mardock,
The Standells,
The Gun Club,
The Monks,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Agent Orange,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Bobby Sherman,
Massinfluence,
Bobby Byrd,
Silicon Teens,
Heaven 17,
Leonard Cohen,
Anthony Braxton,
Deadbeat,
Fat Boys,
Mary Jane Girls,
Parry Music,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Fugs,
Danielle Patucci,
The Music Machine,
The Stooges,
Marmalade,
Lalo Schifrin,
Depeche Mode,
The Sonics,
The Pretty Things,
Zero Boys,
Susan Cadogan,
ABC,
Yaz,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Names,
Eric B and Rakim,
Arab on Radar,
Soft Machine,
Aloha Tigers,
Hot Snakes,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Vogues,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Joy Division,
Chris Corsano,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.