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 Sierra Leone and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 arpeggiator 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 Roy Ayers to the rap 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 The Leaves. All the underground hits.
All Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thee Headcoats 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MDC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Pulsallama,
H. Thieme,
Tears for Fears,
Scion,
Neil Young,
MDC,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Das Ding,
Goldenarms,
Banda Bassotti,
ABBA,
The Blues Magoos,
The Cure,
Fela Kuti,
The Leaves,
Franke,
Sarah Menescal,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Hasil Adkins,
Stereo Dub,
John Holt,
Popol Vuh,
Whodini,
Blake Baxter,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Freddie Wadling,
Danielle Patucci,
World's Most,
Intrusion,
Fad Gadget,
Stockholm Monsters,
Brick,
FM Einheit,
Harry Pussy,
The Gories,
Slave,
Quantec,
Black Sheep,
Scan 7,
Severed Heads,
Glenn Branca,
Gong,
Rosa Yemen,
Kevin Saunderson,
Circle Jerks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Colin Newman,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Groovy Waters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Swans,
Arthur Verocai,
Silicon Teens,
Public Image Ltd.,
Procol Harum,
Bang On A Can,
Funky Four + One,
June of 44,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.