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 Denmark and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Music Machine to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Saccharine Trust. All the underground hits.
All The Fall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris Corsano 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cowsills record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
Marc Almond,
Nirvana,
The Cramps,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Searchers,
Letta Mbulu,
Heaven 17,
Aaron Thompson,
The Smoke,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Yellowson,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Robert Hood,
Trumans Water,
Morten Harket,
Urselle,
Funky Four + One,
Byron Stingily,
Faraquet,
The Gun Club,
Q and Not U,
Jacob Miller,
Derrick May,
Blossom Toes,
Tropical Tobacco,
Nation of Ulysses,
cv313,
Dead Boys,
Peter and Kerry,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Soft Cell,
Ronnie Foster,
The Monks,
The Residents,
Monolake,
Althea and Donna,
Juan Atkins,
Jawbox,
Piero Umiliani,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Wake,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Evens,
The Slackers,
The Neon Judgement,
Au Pairs,
Aloha Tigers,
Glenn Branca,
Cybotron,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Names,
Andrew Hill,
The Index,
Ten City,
Quando Quango,
Leonard Cohen,
Silicon Teens,
The Remains,
Los Fastidios,
L. Decosne,
Neil Young,
Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack.
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.