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 Macedonia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 Toronto and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Boogie Down Productions to the punk 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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Black Flag tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
Arthur Verocai,
Spandau Ballet,
the Bar-Kays,
The Toasters,
Black Flag,
Aural Exciters,
June of 44,
Black Sheep,
JFA,
Magma,
Terry Callier,
Yusef Lateef,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
La Düsseldorf,
Ronnie Foster,
Stiv Bators,
Hashim,
Talk Talk,
Babytalk,
Country Teasers,
Jeff Lynne,
Soul Sonic Force,
Eli Mardock,
Procol Harum,
Easy Going,
Zero Boys,
The Pretty Things,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Buckinghams,
Sun Ra,
The Moody Blues,
Chris & Cosey,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Darondo,
The Walker Brothers,
The Kinks,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
China Crisis,
Average White Band,
Grandmaster Flash,
Duran Duran,
Tom Boy,
Deadbeat,
Ohio Players,
Crime,
Quadrant,
The Velvet Underground,
Banda Bassotti,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Stockholm Monsters,
Eric B and Rakim,
cv313,
The Tremeloes,
Altered Images,
Jacques Brel,
FM Einheit,
Angry Samoans,
PIL,
Saccharine Trust,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.