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 Libya and from Milan.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 sitar 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 Jerry Gold Smith to the techno 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 Chris & Cosey. All the underground hits.
All Minutemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every a-ha 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Wake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Model 500,
Black Bananas,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Supertramp,
Agent Orange,
Lou Reed,
The Kinks,
Easy Going,
Groovy Waters,
Gang Starr,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Gladiators,
Harmonia,
Funky Four + One,
Tommy Roe,
Robert Hood,
cv313,
The Durutti Column,
K-Klass,
Ultravox,
Procol Harum,
These Immortal Souls,
Darondo,
Boogie Down Productions,
U.S. Maple,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Soft Cell,
Ornette Coleman,
Terry Callier,
Kerrie Biddell,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lalann,
The New Christs,
Slick Rick,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Drive Like Jehu,
Trumans Water,
The Golliwogs,
Scott Walker,
Derrick May,
June of 44,
Crime,
FM Einheit,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Aaron Thompson,
Arcadia,
Boz Scaggs,
Nico,
Audionom,
Harry Pussy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Throbbing Gristle,
Eric B and Rakim,
Donald Byrd,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Steve Hackett,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Suburban Knight,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive.
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.