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 Panama and from Portland.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and London.
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 snare 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 Robert Hood to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Fatback Band. All the underground hits.
All Simply Red tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Interpol,
Nas,
John Cale,
The Index,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
R.M.O.,
Surgeon,
Bootsy Collins,
The Blues Magoos,
Buzzcocks,
Pylon,
Ultra Naté,
Mark Hollis,
MC5,
The Standells,
Slick Rick,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Brothers Johnson,
Crispian St. Peters,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Colin Newman,
DJ Sneak,
The Grass Roots,
The Evens,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Angry Samoans,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
CMW,
Thompson Twins,
Faust,
Funkadelic,
Minutemen,
H. Thieme,
The Victims,
cv313,
Flamin' Groovies,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Gichy Dan,
Flipper,
Marine Girls,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Bronski Beat,
Sällskapet,
Reagan Youth,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Fall,
Wings,
Nation of Ulysses,
Boz Scaggs,
Anakelly,
Byron Stingily,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Tom Boy,
The Real Kids,
Maleditus Sound,
Arab on Radar,
This Heat,
Chris Corsano,
Soul II Soul,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Althea and Donna,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie.
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.