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 Brazil and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in 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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Glenn Branca to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 kango's stein massive. All the underground hits.
All Mad Mike tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Echo & the Bunnymen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharoah Sanders,
Idris Muhammad,
The Electric Prunes,
Severed Heads,
Steve Hackett,
Excepter,
Lalann,
FM Einheit,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Loose Ends,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Black Bananas,
Fela Kuti,
The Birthday Party,
Mr. Review,
Crispy Ambulance,
Suburban Knight,
The Fire Engines,
Faust,
Young Marble Giants,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Leonard Cohen,
The Litter,
Quadrant,
Chris & Cosey,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Matthew Bourne,
The Searchers,
Animal Collective,
Bobbi Humphrey,
David Bowie,
Black Pus,
Crooked Eye,
Big Daddy Kane,
ABC,
Yusef Lateef,
Albert Ayler,
Qualms,
X-Ray Spex,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sonic Youth,
Sound Behaviour,
Eve St. Jones,
Crispian St. Peters,
Swans,
Pussy Galore,
Oblivians,
Rapeman,
Piero Umiliani,
Vainqueur,
a-ha,
Robert Görl,
Sandy B,
Radiohead,
Technova,
Donny Hathaway,
Danielle Patucci,
The Blues Magoos,
The Moleskins,
Man Eating Sloth,
Dual Sessions,
Mission of Burma,
Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks.
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.