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 Madagascar and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Chic 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 Crispy Ambulance to the techno 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 Marc Almond. All the underground hits.
All Bang On A Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The United States of America record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Laurel Aitken,
Stiv Bators,
Roy Ayers,
Essential Logic,
Smog,
The Count Five,
The Mummies,
Barry Ungar,
Frankie Knuckles,
Loose Ends,
Lungfish,
The Electric Prunes,
Jerry's Kids,
Altered Images,
Sun City Girls,
Moebius,
Glambeats Corp.,
Kenny Larkin,
The Selecter,
The Gap Band,
The Victims,
Buzzcocks,
Patti Smith,
The Cure,
Connie Case,
John Lydon,
Morten Harket,
Metal Thangz,
Byron Stingily,
Althea and Donna,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Scrapy,
Sarah Menescal,
Yazoo,
The Velvet Underground,
Skarface,
Inner City,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Visage,
Little Man,
Talk Talk,
Wasted Youth,
Shuggie Otis,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
La Düsseldorf,
Ossler,
Q65,
Bill Near,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Bizarre Inc.,
Bluetip,
Deepchord,
Khruangbin,
Oneida,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Moody Blues,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Nico,
The Kinks,
Interpol,
Au Pairs,
Neu!, Neu!, Neu!, Neu!.
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.