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 Philippines and from Stockholm.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 arpeggiator 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 Alarm Clocks to the electroclash 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 Rites of Spring. All the underground hits.
All The Zeros tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wasted Youth 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Association record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
Absolute Body Control,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Popol Vuh,
Altered Images,
Max Romeo,
The Evens,
Rapeman,
Derrick May,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Remains,
the Bar-Kays,
Arab on Radar,
JFA,
Magazine,
UT,
Jimmy McGriff,
Pantytec,
One Last Wish,
Symarip,
Deadbeat,
Joyce Sims,
Deepchord,
Warsaw,
Yusef Lateef,
Pierre Henry,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Arcadia,
Television,
Excepter,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bauhaus,
Electric Prunes,
Ken Boothe,
Pere Ubu,
Dawn Penn,
Mr. Review,
Cameo,
The Last Poets,
Peter & Gordon,
Maurizio,
Soft Cell,
Amon Düül II,
Marmalade,
the Fania All-Stars,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
June of 44,
In Retrospect,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Rufus Thomas,
Thompson Twins,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Drive Like Jehu,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Cheater Slicks,
Colin Newman,
Rod Modell,
Outsiders,
Liliput,
Kayak,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.