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 Vietnam and from Toronto.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 synthesizer 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 Quadrant to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Cure. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobbi Humphrey 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marmalade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Chris Corsano,
Lou Christie,
The Fuzztones,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
the Normal,
Ralphi Rosario,
Malaria!,
The Buckinghams,
Theoretical Girls,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Sam Rivers,
The Invisible,
Underground Resistance,
Ohio Players,
The Fall,
Niagra,
Bad Manners,
Josef K,
Whodini,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Hashim,
John Cale,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Index,
Carl Craig,
Susan Cadogan,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Joey Negro,
Gastr Del Sol,
Vladislav Delay,
Crash Course in Science,
Skaos,
The Angels of Light,
Lucky Dragons,
The Beau Brummels,
Thompson Twins,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Kayak,
Faraquet,
David Axelrod,
Ultra Naté,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Yaz,
Boz Scaggs,
Goldenarms,
Visage,
Second Layer,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Bob Dylan,
Warsaw,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Warren Ellis,
Brand Nubian,
Graham Central Station,
The Busters,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.