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 Madagascar and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 synthesizer 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 H. Thieme to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Divine Comedy. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Bananas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Trojans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
Mantronix,
Essential Logic,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Reuben Wilson,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Danielle Patucci,
Yazoo,
Pharoah Sanders,
A Certain Ratio,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Fluxion,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Dawn Penn,
Thee Headcoats,
Shuggie Otis,
Eve St. Jones,
U.S. Maple,
The Birthday Party,
The United States of America,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lalo Schifrin,
Eric Copeland,
Skaos,
F. McDonald,
Barry Ungar,
The Moody Blues,
Parry Music,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Remains,
Johnny Osbourne,
Main Source,
The Sonics,
Terrestrial Tones,
Pantytec,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Graham Central Station,
Rekid,
Sixth Finger,
Juan Atkins,
Deadbeat,
Glenn Branca,
Interpol,
Adolescents,
Marmalade,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Skriet,
Althea and Donna,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Eden Ahbez,
X-Ray Spex,
Icehouse,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Jeff Mills,
Max Romeo,
Wasted Youth,
Whodini,
Harry Pussy,
Brass Construction,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Tropical Tobacco,
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.