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 Grenada and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 808 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 Victims to the crunk 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 Dave Gahan. All the underground hits.
All Alice Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dawn Penn record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T.S.O.L.,
Accadde A,
48th St. Collective,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Brick,
David Bowie,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lightning Bolt,
The Skatalites,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
U.S. Maple,
Aloha Tigers,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Kinks,
Lakeside,
Monks,
The Slackers,
Joy Division,
The Trojans,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rhythm & Sound,
Wings,
Brothers Johnson,
Smog,
Radiopuhelimet,
Reagan Youth,
Livin' Joy,
Magma,
Sam Rivers,
The Doobie Brothers,
Kurtis Blow,
Ken Boothe,
Warsaw,
Ronan,
The Offenders,
Amon Düül II,
Alice Coltrane,
The Last Poets,
Ohio Players,
Moebius,
Wire,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ronnie Foster,
Joe Finger,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Shoche,
Banda Bassotti,
Terrestrial Tones,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Dorothy Ashby,
Marine Girls,
Joe Smooth,
Alison Limerick,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Au Pairs,
Monolake,
Index,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Blackbyrds,
Babytalk,
The Black Dice,
The Monks,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.