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 Libya and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 güiro 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 Malaria! to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Pretty Things. All the underground hits.
All This Heat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Busters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lyres record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
The Associates,
The Human League,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Fear,
The Techniques,
Lou Reed,
Cameo,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
X-102,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
the Human League,
Lindisfarne,
Dorothy Ashby,
Matthew Halsall,
The Fall,
The Divine Comedy,
Man Parrish,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Pretty Things,
Mission of Burma,
Y Pants,
Infiniti,
Nick Fraelich,
Jeff Lynne,
Stockholm Monsters,
Yusef Lateef,
Howard Jones,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Electric Prunes,
The Index,
Peter and Kerry,
Barbara Tucker,
Gang Green,
Ken Boothe,
Flash Fearless,
Altered Images,
Brick,
Dead Boys,
Marcia Griffiths,
Circle Jerks,
Sixth Finger,
The Dead C,
Deakin,
The Neon Judgement,
Roxette,
Davy DMX,
The Fugs,
The Slackers,
The Trojans,
The Monochrome Set,
The Mojo Men,
Chris & Cosey,
Banda Bassotti,
Rotary Connection,
Sound Behaviour,
Stetsasonic,
The New Christs,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Blancmange,
Roy Ayers,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.