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 Romania and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Black Sheep to the dance 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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All Ultravox 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 disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gap Band,
The Grass Roots,
T. Rex,
Magma,
Gong,
Qualms,
Donny Hathaway,
KRS-One,
Joy Division,
X-102,
Infiniti,
David Axelrod,
Terrestrial Tones,
Roxette,
Little Man,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sexual Harrassment,
Aloha Tigers,
Lalo Schifrin,
Index,
Nick Fraelich,
Suicide,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
ABC,
The Litter,
Aaron Thompson,
The Gladiators,
China Crisis,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Dark Day,
The Monks,
Ponytail,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gabor Szabo,
Steve Hackett,
Kenny Larkin,
Ralphi Rosario,
Jacques Brel,
Derrick Morgan,
Moss Icon,
PIL,
The Remains,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Surgeon,
Rod Modell,
Todd Rundgren,
Kaleidoscope,
Scion,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
This Heat,
Public Enemy,
Eric B and Rakim,
Swell Maps,
The Stooges,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Monks,
Harry Pussy,
L. Decosne,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.