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 Marshall Islands and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 chamberlin 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 Brothers Johnson to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 One Last Wish. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Sherman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siouxsie and the Banshees record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Toni Rubio,
Terrestrial Tones,
ABBA,
The Golliwogs,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gil Scott Heron,
Josef K,
The Monks,
Graham Central Station,
Rotary Connection,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bobby Byrd,
The Martian,
Goldenarms,
Mandrill,
Simply Red,
Archie Shepp,
Whodini,
Michelle Simonal,
The Electric Prunes,
Sixth Finger,
Avey Tare,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Arab on Radar,
Crash Course in Science,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Clear Light,
Rakim,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Altered Images,
Depeche Mode,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Animal Collective,
The Vogues,
Thompson Twins,
Ice-T,
Wally Richardson,
Joensuu 1685,
Howard Jones,
Duran Duran,
Rapeman,
The Standells,
Marcia Griffiths,
ABC,
The Sonics,
the Normal,
Fat Boys,
Roger Hodgson,
Sonic Youth,
Jimmy McGriff,
Barrington Levy,
Sugar Minott,
Nirvana,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Kas Product,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Seeds,
Quadrant,
Niagra,
Scratch Acid,
Eurythmics,
Hardrive,
Main Source, Main Source, Main Source, Main Source.
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.