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 Kazakhstan and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Misunderstood to the crunk 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 Agent Orange. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monolake,
Gang Green,
Bill Wells,
Lou Reed,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Searchers,
Joy Division,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Von Mondo,
Letta Mbulu,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Barry Ungar,
The Dirtbombs,
The Black Dice,
Parry Music,
48th St. Collective,
The Monks,
Danielle Patucci,
The Real Kids,
Wings,
The Vogues,
Sex Pistols,
Inner City,
The Invisible,
The Cowsills,
Talk Talk,
Second Layer,
Sister Nancy,
Soft Machine,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Music Machine,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Lebanon Hanover,
Big Daddy Kane,
Grey Daturas,
Electric Prunes,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Ludus,
Chris & Cosey,
Traffic Nightmare,
Mantronix,
Flipper,
This Heat,
Minutemen,
the Bar-Kays,
Television Personalities,
Todd Rundgren,
Don Cherry,
The Electric Prunes,
Kaleidoscope,
Eden Ahbez,
Wally Richardson,
Deadbeat,
Matthew Halsall,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sam Rivers,
John Holt,
Maleditus Sound,
Monks,
Magma,
The Tremeloes,
Panda Bear,
Donny Hathaway,
Vainqueur,
The Evens, The Evens, The Evens, The Evens.
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.