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 the UAE and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 arpeggiator 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 Severed Heads to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All The J.B.'s tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Zero Boys 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Desert Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rufus Thomas,
Crime,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Monochrome Set,
Livin' Joy,
The Smoke,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Blake Baxter,
The Fugs,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Deadbeat,
Scott Walker,
Wally Richardson,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Index,
Throbbing Gristle,
Pagans,
Smog,
DNA,
Sixth Finger,
The Young Rascals,
Porter Ricks,
Glenn Branca,
Godley & Creme,
Magazine,
The Slackers,
Banda Bassotti,
Qualms,
Circle Jerks,
Average White Band,
Traffic Nightmare,
This Heat,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Alison Limerick,
Cluster,
These Immortal Souls,
The Zeros,
Dave Gahan,
Ohio Players,
Alice Coltrane,
Bauhaus,
Morten Harket,
T. Rex,
The Star Department,
Cecil Taylor,
The Shadows of Knight,
Pere Ubu,
MDC,
The Offenders,
Skaos,
Barrington Levy,
Kool Moe Dee,
Country Teasers,
Kurtis Blow,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Laurel Aitken,
Kas Product,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Gil Scott Heron,
Newcleus,
The Victims,
Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight.
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.