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 Georgia and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Gabor Szabo to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Lou Reed & John Cale. All the underground hits.
All Suburban Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cramps record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Move,
The Gap Band,
Von Mondo,
Amon Düül,
Magazine,
Talk Talk,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Moody Blues,
Nas,
Swell Maps,
Wally Richardson,
Dead Boys,
Kurtis Blow,
Vladislav Delay,
Nirvana,
Agent Orange,
Rotary Connection,
Aswad,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Dual Sessions,
Barbara Tucker,
Josef K,
Angry Samoans,
The Fortunes,
The Young Rascals,
Pussy Galore,
Anthony Braxton,
Davy DMX,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Colin Newman,
The Pop Group,
Wolf Eyes,
Henry Cow,
Quando Quango,
Eric Copeland,
In Retrospect,
Unwound,
The Searchers,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Alarm Clocks,
Buzzcocks,
Nils Olav,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Remains,
Pulsallama,
Gong,
Babytalk,
Index,
Arab on Radar,
John Foxx,
Roger Hodgson,
JFA,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
E-Dancer,
Half Japanese,
Erykah Badu,
Oblivians,
The Detroit Cobras,
Infiniti,
David McCallum,
Livin' Joy,
The Beau Brummels,
The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement.
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.