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 Venezuela and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Yellowson to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Star Department record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Intrusion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Stooges,
The Vogues,
Marc Almond,
The Fuzztones,
Desert Stars,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
PIL,
Infiniti,
Wolf Eyes,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Circle Jerks,
John Holt,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Chrome,
Joyce Sims,
Toni Rubio,
Boredoms,
Sonny Sharrock,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
ABC,
The Tremeloes,
Moss Icon,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Music Machine,
Laurel Aitken,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Stereo Dub,
Blossom Toes,
Excepter,
The Gladiators,
Godley & Creme,
The Monochrome Set,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Last Poets,
Gong,
Man Parrish,
Oneida,
8 Eyed Spy,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Tres Demented,
Isaac Hayes,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Harmonia,
Soul II Soul,
Sex Pistols,
Yellowson,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Swans,
Grauzone,
Franke,
The Blackbyrds,
Robert Hood,
John Lydon,
Hot Snakes,
Public Enemy,
Juan Atkins,
The New Christs,
a-ha,
Nils Olav,
Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson.
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.