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 Suriname and from Bremen.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Whodini record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rod Modell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
Ten City,
These Immortal Souls,
Eurythmics,
PIL,
The Grass Roots,
Desert Stars,
The Fugs,
AZ,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Nirvana,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Soul Sonic Force,
Glenn Branca,
The Flesh Eaters,
Mary Jane Girls,
Hot Snakes,
The Pretty Things,
Faraquet,
T.S.O.L.,
Graham Central Station,
Kayak,
Frankie Knuckles,
Althea and Donna,
Lou Reed,
The Electric Prunes,
Bush Tetras,
Royal Trux,
Deepchord,
Scrapy,
Lower 48,
Oneida,
Hashim,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Ralphi Rosario,
Masters at Work,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Joy Division,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Stetsasonic,
Bad Manners,
Minny Pops,
Oblivians,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Fad Gadget,
Radiohead,
Scott Walker,
This Heat,
The Fuzztones,
Crispian St. Peters,
Chris Corsano,
Drive Like Jehu,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Slackers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Tomorrow,
Mission of Burma,
The Selecter,
Alphaville,
Patti Smith,
Scratch Acid,
Section 25, Section 25, Section 25, Section 25.
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.