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 Greece and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 Bologna and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 marimba 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 Letta Mbulu to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Lindisfarne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Lydon 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Crispy Ambulance,
Suicide,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
New Order,
The Saints,
Alphaville,
B.T. Express,
The Fortunes,
Isaac Hayes,
Depeche Mode,
Joe Finger,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Kerri Chandler,
Scion,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Tremeloes,
Flash Fearless,
The Pretty Things,
Fad Gadget,
Mandrill,
the Human League,
Tom Boy,
Robert Görl,
8 Eyed Spy,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sonic Youth,
The Kinks,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Dave Clark Five,
Godley & Creme,
Pharoah Sanders,
Funky Four + One,
Sound Behaviour,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Terry Callier,
CMW,
Aural Exciters,
Public Enemy,
Second Layer,
Black Moon,
Gong,
Massinfluence,
Radiohead,
Masters at Work,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Tim Buckley,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The American Breed,
The Vogues,
Roy Ayers,
Eric Copeland,
Glenn Branca,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
a-ha,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
AZ,
The Gladiators,
Shuggie Otis,
Flamin' Groovies,
Wally Richardson,
Niagra, Niagra, Niagra, Niagra.
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.