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 Vietnam and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 Portland and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Interpol. All the underground hits.
All Lungfish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Danielle Patucci 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amon Düül II,
John Foxx,
Max Romeo,
The J.B.'s,
ABC,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Patti Smith,
Glambeats Corp.,
Mo-Dettes,
Marine Girls,
The Moleskins,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sugar Minott,
The Young Rascals,
Nico,
The Invisible,
Brothers Johnson,
Chris & Cosey,
Dual Sessions,
The Shadows of Knight,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Fire Engines,
Wally Richardson,
Davy DMX,
Moebius,
Gerry Rafferty,
Brass Construction,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Pet Shop Boys,
Deadbeat,
Von Mondo,
Dorothy Ashby,
Fear,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Curtis Mayfield,
Oneida,
The Walker Brothers,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Five Americans,
Brick,
The Modern Lovers,
China Crisis,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Aaron Thompson,
Hasil Adkins,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Country Teasers,
The Toasters,
The Smoke,
The Dead C,
The Golliwogs,
Bizarre Inc.,
Soul Sonic Force,
Peter and Kerry,
Radio Birdman,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Gap Band,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.