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 Tajikistan and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 John Cale to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Ohio Players. All the underground hits.
All Circle Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thee Headcoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Excepter,
James White and The Blacks,
John Holt,
Roxette,
The Star Department,
These Immortal Souls,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Laurel Aitken,
AZ,
The Alarm Clocks,
Pylon,
Fat Boys,
The Monochrome Set,
CMW,
T.S.O.L.,
The Velvet Underground,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Names,
Sam Rivers,
Magazine,
Wolf Eyes,
Con Funk Shun,
Erykah Badu,
Soulsonic Force,
Curtis Mayfield,
Bobby Womack,
Little Man,
Davy DMX,
Supertramp,
Make Up,
Ludus,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lakeside,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Evens,
Tim Buckley,
Radiopuhelimet,
Lindisfarne,
Ponytail,
Youth Brigade,
Funky Four + One,
Anthony Braxton,
The Offenders,
The American Breed,
The Invisible,
Neu!,
The Moleskins,
The Dirtbombs,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Mandrill,
The Modern Lovers,
Marcia Griffiths,
Brand Nubian,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Tres Demented,
X-Ray Spex,
Cybotron,
Chrome,
Kaleidoscope,
Eric B and Rakim,
Organ,
Black Sheep,
John Cale, John Cale, John Cale, John Cale.
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.