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 Mongolia and from Accra.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Delta 5 to the electroclash 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 Saccharine Trust. All the underground hits.
All Swans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Loose Ends record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hardrive,
Man Parrish,
Tubeway Army,
Boz Scaggs,
Johnny Osbourne,
Mantronix,
Donny Hathaway,
Black Bananas,
Whodini,
David Bowie,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Franke,
Public Enemy,
cv313,
B.T. Express,
The Knickerbockers,
Prince Buster,
The Flesh Eaters,
Infiniti,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bootsy Collins,
Funky Four + One,
Eurythmics,
MDC,
Country Teasers,
Royal Trux,
Max Romeo,
The Martian,
Saccharine Trust,
the Association,
The Sonics,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Eve St. Jones,
The Trojans,
Alison Limerick,
The Doobie Brothers,
Jandek,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Pretty Things,
Bobby Sherman,
Byron Stingily,
Sam Rivers,
Dark Day,
Alton Ellis,
The Dirtbombs,
The Modern Lovers,
Gang of Four,
The Zeros,
48th St. Collective,
Jeru the Damaja,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Pharoah Sanders,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Al Stewart,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Liliput,
the Bar-Kays,
KRS-One,
Warsaw,
Altered Images,
Swans,
Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett.
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.