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 Costa Rica and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Wasted Youth to the crunk 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 Television. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Raincoats,
Shuggie Otis,
Anthony Braxton,
The Birthday Party,
the Bar-Kays,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Grey Daturas,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Don Cherry,
Little Man,
Faraquet,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Bill Near,
Audionom,
Lucky Dragons,
Kurtis Blow,
Can,
Sparks,
Brothers Johnson,
Al Stewart,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Rod Modell,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Barracudas,
Barry Ungar,
The Gories,
E-Dancer,
Masters at Work,
The Velvet Underground,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Desert Stars,
Dark Day,
X-101,
Circle Jerks,
Soulsonic Force,
Magma,
Tres Demented,
David McCallum,
Gang Green,
Second Layer,
Boz Scaggs,
X-102,
Spoonie Gee,
Flipper,
Fear,
Inner City,
Stiv Bators,
Organ,
Moss Icon,
Boogie Down Productions,
Soul Sonic Force,
Suicide,
The Slackers,
The Index,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Camberwell Now,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Tears for Fears,
Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy, Sister Nancy.
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.