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 Macedonia and from New York.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the snare 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 Trash.
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 The Vogues. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Mills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every World's Most record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
Gregory Isaacs,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Minnie Riperton,
Aural Exciters,
Jeff Lynne,
Radio Birdman,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Grauzone,
Joe Smooth,
Pulsallama,
Scion,
Black Pus,
Sight & Sound,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Terry Callier,
The Tremeloes,
The Names,
Peter and Kerry,
Bizarre Inc.,
Jacob Miller,
Heaven 17,
Talk Talk,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Franke,
Mars,
Tomorrow,
Bluetip,
Albert Ayler,
Tom Boy,
Ultra Naté,
The Seeds,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Dennis Brown,
Matthew Halsall,
Goldenarms,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Sonics,
The Divine Comedy,
The Selecter,
The Angels of Light,
Das Ding,
Faust,
Eddi Front,
Fear,
Slick Rick,
The Cure,
Ponytail,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Echospace,
Sound Behaviour,
Crime,
John Foxx,
Swans,
Symarip,
Kurtis Blow,
Eric Copeland,
Cameo,
Ludus,
Minny Pops,
Junior Murvin,
Ohio Players,
Tres Demented,
The Evens, The Evens, The Evens, The Evens.
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.