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 Estonia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Lou Christie to the techno 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 Camouflage. All the underground hits.
All Underground Resistance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Wyatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
David Axelrod,
The Five Americans,
June of 44,
Roxette,
Iggy Pop,
Can,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Tommy Roe,
Crooked Eye,
The Neon Judgement,
The J.B.'s,
The Gories,
Marmalade,
Inner City,
Sugar Minott,
Roxy Music,
Neu!,
Brick,
Severed Heads,
OOIOO,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Black Sheep,
Los Fastidios,
10cc,
Gang of Four,
Maleditus Sound,
The Wake,
Malaria!,
Idris Muhammad,
The Saints,
Spoonie Gee,
Lucky Dragons,
Piero Umiliani,
Nils Olav,
Icehouse,
Peter & Gordon,
Jacob Miller,
Rekid,
Yusef Lateef,
Zapp,
Judy Mowatt,
The Slackers,
Hot Snakes,
Ronan,
Minutemen,
Lalann,
Kerrie Biddell,
Saccharine Trust,
The Kinks,
The Sisters of Mercy,
John Holt,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
E-Dancer,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Talk Talk,
Blake Baxter,
The Shadows of Knight,
Sonic Youth,
The Cramps,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues.
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.