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 Syria and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Jawbox to the electroclash 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 the Swans. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Halsall record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yazoo 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?
Bad Manners,
Bootsy Collins,
CMW,
Soft Machine,
The Skatalites,
The Music Machine,
Y Pants,
PIL,
Qualms,
The Fugs,
Index,
Wings,
Skarface,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Fela Kuti,
The New Christs,
the Sonics,
Schoolly D,
June of 44,
Black Flag,
F. McDonald,
John Coltrane,
Letta Mbulu,
Soul Sonic Force,
Rites of Spring,
Yusef Lateef,
Subhumans,
Khruangbin,
Talk Talk,
Symarip,
Robert Hood,
the Association,
Scientists,
Buzzcocks,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Adolescents,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Boogie Down Productions,
Dead Boys,
Todd Rundgren,
Man Parrish,
Funkadelic,
The Tremeloes,
Gang Green,
Inner City,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Sam Rivers,
Dorothy Ashby,
ABBA,
Barbara Tucker,
the Swans,
Jacques Brel,
The Young Rascals,
Pylon,
Pole,
Rekid,
Scan 7,
Henry Cow,
Delta 5,
The Grass Roots,
Make Up,
The Associates, The Associates, The Associates, The Associates.
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.