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 Sweden and from Winnipeg.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 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 Mummies to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Dark Day. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
James Chance & The Contortions,
LL Cool J,
Roy Ayers,
Crash Course in Science,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Little Man,
Wire,
Deadbeat,
Fugazi,
New Age Steppers,
Lebanon Hanover,
Nik Kershaw,
Sister Nancy,
Slave,
Groovy Waters,
These Immortal Souls,
Rod Modell,
The Fortunes,
Minnie Riperton,
Terrestrial Tones,
Wings,
Index,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Average White Band,
Pierre Henry,
Fort Wilson Riot,
R.M.O.,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lou Christie,
Mantronix,
Q65,
Brick,
The Index,
Jawbox,
K-Klass,
Crooked Eye,
Ohio Players,
Second Layer,
X-101,
Clear Light,
Moby Grape,
Kas Product,
The Techniques,
Spandau Ballet,
Grey Daturas,
Suburban Knight,
Janne Schatter,
Rufus Thomas,
Animal Collective,
Sun City Girls,
Bill Wells,
A Flock of Seagulls,
John Foxx,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Suicide,
David McCallum,
Eli Mardock,
Arcadia,
The Gap Band,
Oblivians,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Franke,
Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke.
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.