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 Andorra and from Beijing.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Paris.
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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Los Fastidios to the electroclash 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 Y Pants. All the underground hits.
All Negative Approach tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T.S.O.L.,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pylon,
Dave Gahan,
Roger Hodgson,
Swell Maps,
The Walker Brothers,
Wings,
Bronski Beat,
Pet Shop Boys,
Marcia Griffiths,
Altered Images,
Mr. Review,
Archie Shepp,
Symarip,
The Electric Prunes,
Henry Cow,
Stiv Bators,
Aural Exciters,
Lou Reed,
Terry Callier,
Loose Ends,
Outsiders,
Warsaw,
Moby Grape,
Lightning Bolt,
Porter Ricks,
Nick Fraelich,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Invisible,
L. Decosne,
kango's stein massive,
The Evens,
Joy Division,
Icehouse,
The Motions,
Sound Behaviour,
Camouflage,
Monks,
Popol Vuh,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Josef K,
X-102,
Connie Case,
Donald Byrd,
Yazoo,
Deepchord,
Soft Cell,
Anakelly,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Red Krayola,
Chris Corsano,
Interpol,
U.S. Maple,
Thee Headcoats,
Wally Richardson,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Rakim,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Crispian St. Peters,
Yellowson,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.