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 Paraguay and from Spokane.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the mellotron 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 The Divine Comedy to the jazz 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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All It's A Beautiful Day tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Depeche Mode record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minor Threat,
Agitation Free,
EPMD,
The Pretty Things,
Public Enemy,
Desert Stars,
The Misunderstood,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bill Wells,
The Fortunes,
Urselle,
Groovy Waters,
Wolf Eyes,
Funkadelic,
Aswad,
Thompson Twins,
Tears for Fears,
The Offenders,
The Young Rascals,
Albert Ayler,
Supertramp,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Flash Fearless,
Mandrill,
Harry Pussy,
Yellowson,
Fear,
The Modern Lovers,
Patti Smith,
Dave Gahan,
The Walker Brothers,
Godley & Creme,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
the Swans,
The Fall,
China Crisis,
Scratch Acid,
Swell Maps,
Neu!,
Bobby Byrd,
Quando Quango,
Dark Day,
Interpol,
Pere Ubu,
Adolescents,
Soulsonic Force,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Mummies,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Mo-Dettes,
Sight & Sound,
The Monks,
The Gun Club,
Brothers Johnson,
Fatback Band,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sarah Menescal,
One Last Wish,
Ronan,
Arcadia,
Aural Exciters,
The Music Machine,
Ponytail,
Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive.
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.