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 Brunei and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 Lyon and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 linndrum 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 Modern Lovers to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Chrome. All the underground hits.
All Sonic Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Das Ding record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun City Girls,
Public Enemy,
Henry Cow,
Inner City,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Human League,
Desert Stars,
Crooked Eye,
Aloha Tigers,
Sonic Youth,
Main Source,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Move,
Joe Smooth,
Alison Limerick,
Eden Ahbez,
Don Cherry,
Dark Day,
Smog,
Eurythmics,
UT,
Theoretical Girls,
Basic Channel,
The Busters,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Gang Green,
The Divine Comedy,
Swell Maps,
The Smiths,
Quando Quango,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Chris & Cosey,
Piero Umiliani,
Qualms,
The Gories,
Pulsallama,
Eve St. Jones,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rufus Thomas,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lou Reed,
Amon Düül,
Jeff Mills,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pole,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Walker Brothers,
Bang On A Can,
Simply Red,
Cheater Slicks,
The Martian,
John Holt,
Public Image Ltd.,
Alice Coltrane,
Avey Tare,
The Fuzztones,
Kurtis Blow,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach.
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.