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 Sweden and from Toronto.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Raincoats. All the underground hits.
All Liliput tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rahsaan Roland Kirk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron 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 güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Newcleus,
Gang Gang Dance,
Byron Stingily,
Grandmaster Flash,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Urselle,
ABBA,
The Monochrome Set,
Wasted Youth,
Donald Byrd,
Vainqueur,
Angry Samoans,
Pagans,
Dead Boys,
Desert Stars,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Rapeman,
Patti Smith,
The Names,
Gang Starr,
John Holt,
A Certain Ratio,
Alphaville,
Godley & Creme,
The Techniques,
Jacob Miller,
Dawn Penn,
Subhumans,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bobby Sherman,
Soulsonic Force,
The Five Americans,
Brass Construction,
The Real Kids,
Slave,
Nirvana,
Index,
Terry Callier,
Mantronix,
R.M.O.,
The Associates,
Eddi Front,
Cybotron,
Boogie Down Productions,
Stetsasonic,
The Searchers,
T.S.O.L.,
Bronski Beat,
Andrew Hill,
Sam Rivers,
The Index,
The Cure,
Liliput,
Joyce Sims,
Eric Copeland,
Black Bananas,
Goldenarms,
Grey Daturas,
Blake Baxter,
Black Flag,
48th St. Collective, 48th St. Collective, 48th St. Collective, 48th St. Collective.
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.