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 Andorra and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Heaven 17 to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Royal Trux. All the underground hits.
All Pussy Galore tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Todd Rundgren record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Terry,
John Coltrane,
Minny Pops,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Crime,
Motorama,
The Techniques,
Reagan Youth,
Althea and Donna,
Q and Not U,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Fear,
Technova,
Joy Division,
Grey Daturas,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sunsets and Hearts,
ABC,
The Evens,
Steve Hackett,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Boz Scaggs,
Chris & Cosey,
John Cale,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Von Mondo,
Buzzcocks,
Kevin Saunderson,
Lower 48,
Beasts of Bourbon,
David McCallum,
Symarip,
Kool Moe Dee,
Pantytec,
Whodini,
Suburban Knight,
Mary Jane Girls,
Wolf Eyes,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Warren Ellis,
Roger Hodgson,
Lou Reed,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bob Dylan,
The Gun Club,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Durutti Column,
Skarface,
Livin' Joy,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Raincoats,
Sight & Sound,
Quantec,
Blancmange,
The Five Americans,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Star Department,
the Sonics,
Tomorrow,
L. Decosne,
Thee Headcoats,
Deepchord,
Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi.
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.