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 Sweden and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 harpsichord 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 Eurythmics to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Scott Walker. All the underground hits.
All Moss Icon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonic Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
New Order,
Royal Trux,
The Move,
Nick Fraelich,
Youth Brigade,
The Moody Blues,
The Tremeloes,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Franke,
Moebius,
The Last Poets,
Sight & Sound,
Anthony Braxton,
The Doors,
Toni Rubio,
LL Cool J,
Kurtis Blow,
Darondo,
Absolute Body Control,
the Germs,
Scott Walker,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Slits,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
John Cale,
Harpers Bizarre,
Byron Stingily,
Lee Hazlewood,
K-Klass,
Trumans Water,
X-Ray Spex,
Al Stewart,
Skarface,
Alice Coltrane,
The Modern Lovers,
Ken Boothe,
Dennis Brown,
E-Dancer,
This Heat,
Subhumans,
Yazoo,
Black Moon,
Harmonia,
Boz Scaggs,
Black Flag,
Wire,
Alison Limerick,
the Swans,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sister Nancy,
Rites of Spring,
Schoolly D,
Ronan,
Howard Jones,
Jerry's Kids,
A Certain Ratio,
Janne Schatter,
Slave,
Kerrie Biddell,
Crash Course in Science,
KRS-One,
Livin' Joy,
Reagan Youth,
Pagans, Pagans, Pagans, Pagans.
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.