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 Slovenia and from Bologna.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 spring reverb 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 Michelle Simonal to the rap 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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All Soft Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Easy Going 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blues Magoos record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Whodini,
Harry Pussy,
Big Daddy Kane,
David Bowie,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Camouflage,
T. Rex,
Throbbing Gristle,
Qualms,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Sound,
Faraquet,
Masters at Work,
Stetsasonic,
the Bar-Kays,
Spandau Ballet,
Man Parrish,
Deepchord,
Soul Sonic Force,
Dave Gahan,
Barrington Levy,
The Human League,
New Age Steppers,
John Coltrane,
Bush Tetras,
Easy Going,
The Litter,
Dark Day,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Fad Gadget,
Sexual Harrassment,
Cameo,
Joe Finger,
Erykah Badu,
Ponytail,
Minor Threat,
The Modern Lovers,
Bobby Womack,
Rites of Spring,
Rhythm & Sound,
Public Enemy,
OOIOO,
Los Fastidios,
Popol Vuh,
Henry Cow,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pylon,
The Leaves,
Bad Manners,
Marshall Jefferson,
JFA,
Anthony Braxton,
T.S.O.L.,
Siglo XX,
Excepter,
The Misunderstood,
Lower 48,
Black Pus,
Roy Ayers,
Tubeway Army,
Maleditus Sound,
Jacques Brel,
Scan 7, Scan 7, Scan 7, Scan 7.
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.