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 Dominican Republic and from Glasgow.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Siouxsie and the Banshees to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Bill Wells. All the underground hits.
All Nation of Ulysses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Khruangbin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
Bad Manners,
Rapeman,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Offenders,
The Modern Lovers,
Skaos,
James White and The Blacks,
Mantronix,
Chrome,
Theoretical Girls,
Dead Boys,
Marvin Gaye,
Tres Demented,
Erasure,
Joe Smooth,
Surgeon,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Black Moon,
R.M.O.,
Minutemen,
Jandek,
Lakeside,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Gang Gang Dance,
Severed Heads,
Kayak,
The Cramps,
10cc,
Davy DMX,
Dave Gahan,
Mr. Review,
Moby Grape,
T. Rex,
The Misunderstood,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Blues Magoos,
The Smoke,
Letta Mbulu,
Susan Cadogan,
Talk Talk,
the Association,
Hardrive,
Young Marble Giants,
The Raincoats,
The Detroit Cobras,
Can,
Accadde A,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Last Poets,
The Names,
Roxy Music,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Kinks,
John Lydon,
Kaleidoscope,
The Slits,
Grauzone,
Roger Hodgson,
Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano.
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.