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 Equatorial Guinea and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 synthesizer 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 Bobby Womack to the punk 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 The Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Rapeman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bauhaus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
10cc,
Neil Young,
Slick Rick,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Mojo Men,
Spandau Ballet,
a-ha,
Kas Product,
Can,
MDC,
Pole,
Fatback Band,
The Birthday Party,
Rotary Connection,
Camberwell Now,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Barracudas,
X-101,
Albert Ayler,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Index,
Eric Copeland,
Harry Pussy,
John Holt,
Kayak,
Dead Boys,
The Count Five,
Symarip,
Bizarre Inc.,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Soul II Soul,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Dennis Brown,
The Human League,
Tropical Tobacco,
Tim Buckley,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
ABC,
the Swans,
The Sound,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Black Sheep,
Severed Heads,
JFA,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gil Scott Heron,
DJ Sneak,
Organ,
Banda Bassotti,
Mars,
Das Ding,
The Stooges,
Alison Limerick,
Boogie Down Productions,
Crash Course in Science,
Brand Nubian,
Brothers Johnson,
X-102,
The Electric Prunes,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.