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 Iceland and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 The Red Krayola to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All Agent Orange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kurtis Blow 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 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Youth Brigade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Freddie Wadling,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sixth Finger,
The Tremeloes,
The Slits,
A Certain Ratio,
Adolescents,
Agent Orange,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Davy DMX,
Unwound,
The Dirtbombs,
Bobby Hutcherson,
X-101,
Underground Resistance,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Urselle,
Electric Prunes,
Lower 48,
Suburban Knight,
Stiv Bators,
Rakim,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Public Image Ltd.,
Matthew Bourne,
Royal Trux,
Gil Scott Heron,
Drive Like Jehu,
Michelle Simonal,
Nas,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Josef K,
Y Pants,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Skriet,
New Order,
Ultravox,
Glambeats Corp.,
Gang Starr,
Fluxion,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ken Boothe,
New York Dolls,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Marcia Griffiths,
Ultra Naté,
Sonic Youth,
Drexciya,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Index,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The New Christs,
Scratch Acid,
Gregory Isaacs,
Index,
Rod Modell,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Monolake,
the Slits,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.