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 Botswana and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Stockholm.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Leaves to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Cal Tjader. All the underground hits.
All Rod Modell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Susan Cadogan 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lucky Dragons,
Tom Boy,
Icehouse,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Eden Ahbez,
Funky Four + One,
Black Pus,
Television,
the Soft Cell,
Roxy Music,
Graham Central Station,
John Lydon,
Gang Starr,
Delon & Dalcan,
Deakin,
Los Fastidios,
The Alarm Clocks,
Donald Byrd,
Absolute Body Control,
the Swans,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Suburban Knight,
MC5,
Fad Gadget,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Slits,
Q65,
The Fugs,
Lou Christie,
Roy Ayers,
Morten Harket,
The Durutti Column,
Lyres,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sex Pistols,
Jawbox,
Bobby Byrd,
The Martian,
Spoonie Gee,
Angry Samoans,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Joyce Sims,
Vainqueur,
Nirvana,
Swans,
Bob Dylan,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Severed Heads,
Marcia Griffiths,
Godley & Creme,
Liliput,
Delta 5,
Ultravox,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
the Human League,
Inner City,
Dark Day,
The Searchers,
Technova,
Harry Pussy,
The Dave Clark Five,
Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson.
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.