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 Estonia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
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 Second Layer to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All Lower 48 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shoche 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pulsallama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
Dual Sessions,
Donald Byrd,
Skarface,
Motorama,
The Grass Roots,
Qualms,
Soft Cell,
Electric Prunes,
The Seeds,
Wasted Youth,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Clear Light,
Godley & Creme,
The Cowsills,
the Bar-Kays,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
David Bowie,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Ken Boothe,
Con Funk Shun,
Alison Limerick,
The Motions,
The Dirtbombs,
Pantytec,
Cal Tjader,
Henry Cow,
The Remains,
The Trojans,
The Dave Clark Five,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Golliwogs,
Quantec,
Hashim,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Detroit Cobras,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Pretty Things,
Bush Tetras,
The Dead C,
Ohio Players,
The Evens,
Amon Düül II,
Idris Muhammad,
Harmonia,
Goldenarms,
Sex Pistols,
Carl Craig,
Outsiders,
Stereo Dub,
The Offenders,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Count Five,
The Techniques,
Howard Jones,
World's Most,
Darondo,
Sarah Menescal,
Roxette, Roxette, Roxette, Roxette.
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.