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 Croatia and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 clarinet 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 Circle Jerks to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All Quando Quango tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cameo 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?
Prince Buster,
Leonard Cohen,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Last Poets,
Darondo,
The Stooges,
Slick Rick,
Moss Icon,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Mantronix,
Mad Mike,
Pylon,
Mark Hollis,
Ralphi Rosario,
Roger Hodgson,
The Birthday Party,
Kevin Saunderson,
L. Decosne,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Remains,
Howard Jones,
The Young Rascals,
Electric Prunes,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Misunderstood,
The Tremeloes,
Das Ding,
Al Stewart,
the Bar-Kays,
The Walker Brothers,
Q and Not U,
Pussy Galore,
Rites of Spring,
Idris Muhammad,
New Age Steppers,
kango's stein massive,
The Cowsills,
Frankie Knuckles,
Joey Negro,
Aaron Thompson,
Pagans,
The Count Five,
Dawn Penn,
The Index,
Q65,
Essential Logic,
Aswad,
Suicide,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Isaac Hayes,
Simply Red,
Sandy B,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Banda Bassotti,
The Velvet Underground,
Hardrive,
PIL,
Ponytail,
Guru Guru,
Stereo Dub,
The Moody Blues,
Laurel Aitken,
Skaos, Skaos, Skaos, Skaos.
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.