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 Antigua and from Seoul.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 theremin 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 The Pretty Things to the electroclash 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 Malaria!. All the underground hits.
All Newcleus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Cale 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crash Course in Science record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Warsaw,
Oblivians,
U.S. Maple,
Eric B and Rakim,
Aswad,
Pylon,
Quantec,
Ronan,
the Sonics,
Throbbing Gristle,
Silicon Teens,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Robert Görl,
Boz Scaggs,
Minnie Riperton,
The Cowsills,
Charles Mingus,
Terry Callier,
Von Mondo,
Althea and Donna,
The Barracudas,
Accadde A,
AZ,
Model 500,
Aural Exciters,
T. Rex,
New York Dolls,
The Litter,
Mission of Burma,
June Days,
The Fortunes,
Adolescents,
Brick,
Bill Wells,
Severed Heads,
Los Fastidios,
Roxy Music,
Brass Construction,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Johnny Osbourne,
Jeff Lynne,
Guru Guru,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Laurel Aitken,
Anthony Braxton,
Malaria!,
Matthew Bourne,
Youth Brigade,
Unwound,
Amon Düül II,
Byron Stingily,
The Fuzztones,
The Slackers,
Crispian St. Peters,
Minny Pops,
Absolute Body Control,
Peter & Gordon,
X-102,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
John Cale,
Vladislav Delay,
Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux.
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.