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 Zambia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
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 Siglo XX 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 48th St. Collective. All the underground hits.
All The Gladiators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Echospace record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
Rites of Spring,
The Moleskins,
Babytalk,
U.S. Maple,
Bobby Womack,
Buzzcocks,
Pole,
The Mummies,
Radio Birdman,
Mars,
Pierre Henry,
Angry Samoans,
The Slits,
Sugar Minott,
Black Pus,
Depeche Mode,
Wasted Youth,
Hot Snakes,
Skriet,
Ken Boothe,
Lindisfarne,
Roxy Music,
Sarah Menescal,
Gabor Szabo,
The Angels of Light,
Lyres,
Japan,
Malaria!,
The Grass Roots,
Michelle Simonal,
Smog,
Deakin,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ornette Coleman,
Patti Smith,
Scan 7,
James White and The Blacks,
Agitation Free,
Bill Wells,
Sandy B,
The Beau Brummels,
T.S.O.L.,
The Litter,
Ronnie Foster,
Pantytec,
Public Enemy,
Silicon Teens,
kango's stein massive,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Reagan Youth,
The Smoke,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Divine Comedy,
Tim Buckley,
Soft Machine,
One Last Wish,
Mantronix,
Thompson Twins,
June of 44,
The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five.
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.