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 Kuwait and from Tehran.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 theremin 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 Gian Franco Pienzio to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Pulsallama. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Goldenarms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
KRS-One,
Panda Bear,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Last Poets,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Flesh Eaters,
Minutemen,
Ossler,
Marc Almond,
Infiniti,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bush Tetras,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Scott Walker,
The Monochrome Set,
Crooked Eye,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Bob Dylan,
Aswad,
Byron Stingily,
Archie Shepp,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Japan,
Minnie Riperton,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Brand Nubian,
The Star Department,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Victims,
Max Romeo,
Kool Moe Dee,
Aural Exciters,
Bill Near,
Matthew Bourne,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Neon Judgement,
Warren Ellis,
The Index,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Joe Finger,
L. Decosne,
Sparks,
Ultimate Spinach,
Lower 48,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Harmonia,
E-Dancer,
David McCallum,
the Germs,
FM Einheit,
the Slits,
Flipper,
Electric Prunes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Kerri Chandler,
The Trojans,
Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire.
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.