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 Malawi and from Spokane.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Porter Ricks to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Gang Green. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Godley & Creme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brothers Johnson,
Cybotron,
ABBA,
The Black Dice,
The Martian,
Depeche Mode,
Wolf Eyes,
New Order,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
AZ,
Sight & Sound,
T. Rex,
Electric Prunes,
The Gun Club,
Blake Baxter,
Interpol,
Archie Shepp,
Tommy Roe,
The Trojans,
Model 500,
the Swans,
Jeff Lynne,
Yellowson,
Reuben Wilson,
Livin' Joy,
Bauhaus,
Altered Images,
Lee Hazlewood,
Scientists,
The Happenings,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
L. Decosne,
Sarah Menescal,
U.S. Maple,
Y Pants,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Moleskins,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Girls At Our Best!,
Grandmaster Flash,
the Slits,
Pere Ubu,
The Grass Roots,
Saccharine Trust,
Aloha Tigers,
Amazonics,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Monochrome Set,
Inner City,
Mo-Dettes,
Nas,
B.T. Express,
the Association,
the Sonics,
Lakeside,
Iggy Pop,
Outsiders,
Ken Boothe,
Quantec, Quantec, Quantec, Quantec.
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.