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 Cyprus and from Mumbai.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Smog to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Yaz. All the underground hits.
All Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Move record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Davy DMX,
Royal Trux,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Robert Görl,
The Detroit Cobras,
Drexciya,
Arab on Radar,
Boredoms,
Black Flag,
Rakim,
Bauhaus,
Porter Ricks,
T.S.O.L.,
June Days,
the Germs,
Barry Ungar,
Oblivians,
The Saints,
Symarip,
The Alarm Clocks,
Swell Maps,
Nick Fraelich,
Tropical Tobacco,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Doobie Brothers,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sun City Girls,
Reuben Wilson,
The Barracudas,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Raincoats,
Can,
Funkadelic,
The Busters,
Underground Resistance,
The Kinks,
PIL,
Blake Baxter,
Ultravox,
Sex Pistols,
The Zeros,
Flipper,
Flamin' Groovies,
Crash Course in Science,
Kayak,
Tommy Roe,
Bluetip,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Avey Tare,
Public Image Ltd.,
Danielle Patucci,
Sam Rivers,
Qualms,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Los Fastidios,
The Velvet Underground,
The Fugs,
Bootsy Collins,
Camouflage,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers.
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.