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 Grenada and from London.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Salvador.
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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Talk Talk to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme. All the underground hits.
All Adolescents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every La Düsseldorf record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rod Modell,
Robert Wyatt,
Can,
Scott Walker,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Leaves,
Marine Girls,
Man Parrish,
Talk Talk,
Scan 7,
The Smiths,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sex Pistols,
Barry Ungar,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Barbara Tucker,
Judy Mowatt,
Isaac Hayes,
Maurizio,
Scion,
Sarah Menescal,
Hoover,
AZ,
The Monks,
Camouflage,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Niagra,
Groovy Waters,
Aloha Tigers,
The Fugs,
The Golliwogs,
Stereo Dub,
Pagans,
Amazonics,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Faraquet,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Magazine,
the Sonics,
Peter & Gordon,
Robert Görl,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Alphaville,
Public Enemy,
Lucky Dragons,
The Barracudas,
DNA,
Tubeway Army,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Lightning Bolt,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Sound,
Todd Rundgren,
Das Ding,
Swans,
R.M.O.,
the Fania All-Stars,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Shuggie Otis,
Wolf Eyes,
Monks,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.