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 Cape Verde and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 808 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 The Grass Roots to the funk 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 Maleditus Sound. All the underground hits.
All Peter & Gordon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Half Japanese record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smiths,
Rosa Yemen,
Little Man,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Scott Walker,
Howard Jones,
Stiv Bators,
FM Einheit,
Marc Almond,
Mr. Review,
Johnny Clarke,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Grey Daturas,
Whodini,
Make Up,
The Cowsills,
Sun City Girls,
Interpol,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Names,
The Cure,
Matthew Bourne,
Gil Scott Heron,
Albert Ayler,
Lalann,
Deakin,
Heaven 17,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Donny Hathaway,
The Fortunes,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Wire,
Pulsallama,
Byron Stingily,
Bobby Byrd,
Cluster,
In Retrospect,
Moebius,
The Divine Comedy,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Drive Like Jehu,
Hashim,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Gun Club,
Clear Light,
Harmonia,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
James White and The Blacks,
Marshall Jefferson,
Althea and Donna,
Hardrive,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Maleditus Sound,
Lower 48,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Alison Limerick,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Fall,
Aural Exciters,
The Litter,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.