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 United States and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the oboe 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 Lungfish to the dance 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 Johnny Osbourne. All the underground hits.
All The Stooges tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Knickerbockers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dave Clark Five 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?
Fat Boys,
The Smoke,
cv313,
Black Pus,
Wasted Youth,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Delon & Dalcan,
Delta 5,
Aloha Tigers,
Lower 48,
Gang Gang Dance,
Minny Pops,
Qualms,
Terry Callier,
Groovy Waters,
The Index,
Nik Kershaw,
The United States of America,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ossler,
Kevin Saunderson,
Buzzcocks,
Fear,
Youth Brigade,
Heaven 17,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Pulsallama,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
the Swans,
Don Cherry,
Ultimate Spinach,
Deepchord,
Shuggie Otis,
The Offenders,
Swans,
Underground Resistance,
Lou Reed,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Dirtbombs,
Connie Case,
Black Bananas,
Moss Icon,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Residents,
Joensuu 1685,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Busters,
Rufus Thomas,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Quadrant,
Agent Orange,
Procol Harum,
Ludus,
Marvin Gaye,
the Soft Cell,
The Dead C,
Reuben Wilson,
Big Daddy Kane,
Malaria!,
The Cowsills,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.