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 Liberia and from Woodstock.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 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 Reagan Youth to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Depeche Mode. All the underground hits.
All Ash Ra Tempel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Silicon Teens 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy 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?
Blake Baxter,
Index,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
John Holt,
Country Joe & The Fish,
London Community Gospel Choir,
the Germs,
Cybotron,
Thompson Twins,
Barclay James Harvest,
CMW,
Black Sheep,
Agent Orange,
June of 44,
Saccharine Trust,
Todd Rundgren,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Man Parrish,
Laurel Aitken,
Amon Düül,
The New Christs,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The United States of America,
Roxette,
Little Man,
ABC,
The Martian,
Susan Cadogan,
Junior Murvin,
The Gladiators,
Roy Ayers,
The Grass Roots,
Thee Headcoats,
Throbbing Gristle,
Wasted Youth,
Sun Ra,
X-Ray Spex,
Moby Grape,
The Angels of Light,
Eric Dolphy,
Curtis Mayfield,
Marmalade,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Girls At Our Best!,
Unrelated Segments,
LL Cool J,
Grey Daturas,
The Divine Comedy,
Pylon,
Dorothy Ashby,
Black Moon,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Rod Modell,
John Lydon,
Terry Callier,
Amazonics,
The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones.
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.