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 Kyrgyzstan and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 guitar 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 Sam Rivers to the techno 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 Heaven 17. All the underground hits.
All Vainqueur tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Order record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monolake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Cal Tjader,
the Germs,
Ultravox,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Dave Clark Five,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Niagra,
The Skatalites,
Dead Boys,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Procol Harum,
Inner City,
Kaleidoscope,
Max Romeo,
Panda Bear,
Symarip,
Amon Düül,
These Immortal Souls,
Isaac Hayes,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Fortunes,
Thompson Twins,
the Association,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Toasters,
World's Most,
Jesper Dahlback,
Popol Vuh,
B.T. Express,
Kerrie Biddell,
Funkadelic,
Index,
Mission of Burma,
Mary Jane Girls,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Roxy Music,
Junior Murvin,
Moby Grape,
Cecil Taylor,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Subhumans,
Essential Logic,
Gang Starr,
Marmalade,
Hoover,
Toni Rubio,
Organ,
Talk Talk,
Theoretical Girls,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Robert Hood,
Pere Ubu,
DNA,
Yusef Lateef,
The Residents,
Unrelated Segments,
Rites of Spring,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson.
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.