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 United States and from Mexico City.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Los Fastidios to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All Accadde A tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flipper 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
Derrick Morgan,
Fluxion,
B.T. Express,
Brick,
Quantec,
Ultravox,
Al Stewart,
FM Einheit,
Matthew Halsall,
Basic Channel,
Bill Wells,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lyres,
Magma,
Peter & Gordon,
Harry Pussy,
Ralphi Rosario,
Surgeon,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eric Dolphy,
The Index,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Jesper Dahlback,
Oblivians,
Public Image Ltd.,
Maleditus Sound,
Lightning Bolt,
Lou Christie,
Pussy Galore,
Fugazi,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Saints,
The Blues Magoos,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Boredoms,
Monks,
The Evens,
Intrusion,
Delta 5,
Wally Richardson,
The Sound,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sister Nancy,
Shoche,
T.S.O.L.,
Funkadelic,
The Offenders,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Skatalites,
Arcadia,
Junior Murvin,
Gong,
John Holt,
The Moody Blues,
Marvin Gaye,
Ken Boothe,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Names,
Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses.
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.