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 Papua New Guinea and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in 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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 güiro 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 CMW to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Holt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Bar-Kays record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
June Days,
Sight & Sound,
Hashim,
Lebanon Hanover,
Pagans,
Neil Young,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Johnny Clarke,
Jeru the Damaja,
48th St. Collective,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Groovy Waters,
Man Parrish,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Young Rascals,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bobby Byrd,
Icehouse,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
10cc,
Aaron Thompson,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Index,
The Detroit Cobras,
Chris Corsano,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Kayak,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Barracudas,
Nirvana,
Duran Duran,
Connie Case,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Seeds,
Cameo,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pet Shop Boys,
Amon Düül II,
Amazonics,
The Tremeloes,
The Pop Group,
Skarface,
Sun Ra,
Smog,
Robert Görl,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
K-Klass,
Monolake,
Man Eating Sloth,
the Slits,
The Red Krayola,
The Litter,
the Normal,
The United States of America,
Al Stewart,
The Martian,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Joy Division,
The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood.
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.