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 New Zealand and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 T.S.O.L. to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker + Sunn O))) tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monochrome Set record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Real Kids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Shuggie Otis,
Heaven 17,
Ponytail,
The Dave Clark Five,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Average White Band,
The Saints,
Black Flag,
Bauhaus,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ornette Coleman,
The Red Krayola,
Suicide,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bobby Byrd,
The Martian,
Infiniti,
Drexciya,
Mad Mike,
L. Decosne,
The Standells,
Amazonics,
Matthew Halsall,
Isaac Hayes,
Echospace,
Stereo Dub,
Rekid,
The Monks,
Pharoah Sanders,
Pet Shop Boys,
Wire,
PIL,
Crispy Ambulance,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Blues Magoos,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Inner City,
Buzzcocks,
Jawbox,
Pierre Henry,
Jandek,
Rotary Connection,
Symarip,
Dark Day,
The Index,
Fluxion,
Black Pus,
Ultravox,
Radiohead,
Man Parrish,
Anthony Braxton,
Patti Smith,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Marine Girls,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Absolute Body Control,
Neil Young,
Fat Boys,
Gerry Rafferty,
Eric Copeland,
The Angels of Light,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.