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 Mauritius and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sister Nancy to the disco 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 Howard Jones. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlback tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Invisible record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jandek,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fugazi,
Bill Wells,
Pussy Galore,
Johnny Clarke,
Kerri Chandler,
Mary Jane Girls,
Cal Tjader,
Wings,
Pole,
Connie Case,
Agitation Free,
Aswad,
Sexual Harrassment,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Maleditus Sound,
Peter & Gordon,
Rufus Thomas,
The Fuzztones,
Smog,
Boredoms,
Heaven 17,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Marc Almond,
World's Most,
Wire,
Cybotron,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sight & Sound,
The Residents,
Amon Düül II,
Black Sheep,
The Misunderstood,
Wolf Eyes,
Barry Ungar,
The Trojans,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Anakelly,
John Lydon,
Laurel Aitken,
Basic Channel,
Soul II Soul,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ken Boothe,
The Real Kids,
Con Funk Shun,
Avey Tare,
Half Japanese,
Bobby Sherman,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Moody Blues,
Marshall Jefferson,
Toni Rubio,
The Cramps,
The Standells,
Severed Heads,
China Crisis,
Au Pairs,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.