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 Armenia and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 The Moody Blues to the electroclash 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 Slits. All the underground hits.
All Soul II Soul tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funky Four + One 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barry Ungar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barry Ungar,
the Slits,
Dorothy Ashby,
Tears for Fears,
In Retrospect,
Pet Shop Boys,
Khruangbin,
The J.B.'s,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sun City Girls,
Popol Vuh,
Donny Hathaway,
Swell Maps,
Mary Jane Girls,
Mr. Review,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Cal Tjader,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Henry Cow,
Panda Bear,
The Raincoats,
Juan Atkins,
Cymande,
La Düsseldorf,
John Lydon,
Marc Almond,
Glenn Branca,
Lower 48,
Von Mondo,
Anthony Braxton,
Roy Ayers,
The Modern Lovers,
Loose Ends,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
OOIOO,
Babytalk,
Metal Thangz,
Symarip,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Hardrive,
Stetsasonic,
Young Marble Giants,
Wire,
Con Funk Shun,
Lucky Dragons,
Sparks,
Mission of Burma,
Todd Terry,
Quadrant,
Don Cherry,
Pantytec,
F. McDonald,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ossler,
Theoretical Girls,
Eric Copeland,
Cluster,
Marvin Gaye,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Delta 5,
Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon.
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.