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 Ivory Coast and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 marimba 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 These Immortal Souls to the funk 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 Popol Vuh. All the underground hits.
All Prince Buster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Little Man record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Offenders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blossom Toes,
Bush Tetras,
Dark Day,
Wasted Youth,
Gastr Del Sol,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Popol Vuh,
Yusef Lateef,
The Electric Prunes,
Pussy Galore,
Alphaville,
Ronnie Foster,
Robert Hood,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Wire,
Clear Light,
Warren Ellis,
Lindisfarne,
The Smiths,
The Fire Engines,
Al Stewart,
Fat Boys,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Residents,
Boredoms,
Shuggie Otis,
The Busters,
Hashim,
Cluster,
The Gun Club,
MDC,
Bobby Sherman,
Bootsy Collins,
Kerri Chandler,
Lyres,
Ossler,
The Move,
The Remains,
Minutemen,
Eric Dolphy,
Panda Bear,
Au Pairs,
The Pretty Things,
Cymande,
The Gories,
the Human League,
La Düsseldorf,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Shoche,
Grauzone,
Crispy Ambulance,
Subhumans,
Harry Pussy,
Glambeats Corp.,
Pantaleimon,
DNA,
Lalann,
Rufus Thomas,
AZ, AZ, AZ, AZ.
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.