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 Sudan and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Tehran.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Deadbeat to the punk 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Anakelly tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tim Buckley record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Notorious Big And Bone Thugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Gong,
Skriet,
Los Fastidios,
Gang Starr,
Minor Threat,
The Star Department,
Barry Ungar,
Pierre Henry,
Jandek,
Harry Pussy,
Crash Course in Science,
Metal Thangz,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Marc Almond,
Mars,
Kayak,
Monolake,
Accadde A,
Inner City,
Wings,
Robert Wyatt,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sam Rivers,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Bobby Byrd,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Severed Heads,
Arab on Radar,
Das Ding,
Trumans Water,
Buzzcocks,
The Alarm Clocks,
Stereo Dub,
Tubeway Army,
Funky Four + One,
Young Marble Giants,
Moss Icon,
Alison Limerick,
48th St. Collective,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Jesper Dahlback,
Sällskapet,
Todd Terry,
Angry Samoans,
Porter Ricks,
Echospace,
The Moleskins,
Kenny Larkin,
Big Daddy Kane,
Oneida,
John Cale,
Sandy B,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Roger Hodgson,
Ken Boothe,
Darondo,
The Cowsills,
cv313,
Sex Pistols,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade.
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.