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 Mauritania and from Lyon.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Seoul.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Brothers Johnson to the grunge 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 Black Flag. All the underground hits.
All Grey Daturas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Five Americans 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Patti Smith,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
U.S. Maple,
Joensuu 1685,
Scientists,
Lungfish,
Roy Ayers,
Siglo XX,
Hardrive,
Barry Ungar,
Traffic Nightmare,
Alison Limerick,
Tim Buckley,
Index,
Tears for Fears,
Electric Prunes,
The Divine Comedy,
The Buckinghams,
Basic Channel,
Derrick Morgan,
Lightning Bolt,
Howard Jones,
Flash Fearless,
Kool Moe Dee,
Main Source,
Jimmy McGriff,
Spandau Ballet,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sandy B,
The Evens,
The New Christs,
A Flock of Seagulls,
T. Rex,
Fad Gadget,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Eden Ahbez,
Lee Hazlewood,
Malaria!,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Pole,
The Sound,
The Smoke,
Khruangbin,
Letta Mbulu,
Dual Sessions,
New Order,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Tom Boy,
Cameo,
Wire,
Archie Shepp,
Au Pairs,
Ultra Naté,
Rotary Connection,
Marvin Gaye,
ABBA,
EPMD,
MDC,
Dark Day,
The Cure, The Cure, The Cure, The Cure.
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.