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 Burundi and from New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the oboe 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 Lou Christie to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All Yellowson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Adolescents 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Skriet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
DNA,
Arab on Radar,
Slave,
Laurel Aitken,
Barclay James Harvest,
D'Angelo,
New Age Steppers,
Robert Görl,
Wolf Eyes,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Motions,
Moss Icon,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The J.B.'s,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Gories,
Chris & Cosey,
B.T. Express,
Leonard Cohen,
Alice Coltrane,
Warren Ellis,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Erasure,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Joensuu 1685,
EPMD,
The Sonics,
Franke,
John Coltrane,
Piero Umiliani,
X-Ray Spex,
Tom Boy,
Jacob Miller,
James White and The Blacks,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Ice-T,
David Bowie,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Desert Stars,
Delta 5,
DJ Style,
Reuben Wilson,
New York Dolls,
48th St. Collective,
Marshall Jefferson,
Smog,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Janne Schatter,
Altered Images,
Dennis Brown,
Amazonics,
Alison Limerick,
The Remains,
John Cale,
Arcadia,
The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets.
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.