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 Palau and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 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 Trumans Water to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Barbara Tucker. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wally Richardson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
Mr. Review,
Minor Threat,
Severed Heads,
Liliput,
Unwound,
The Grass Roots,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
UT,
ABBA,
Average White Band,
T. Rex,
The Monks,
Gregory Isaacs,
FM Einheit,
The Last Poets,
B.T. Express,
Joey Negro,
Symarip,
The Golliwogs,
Sunsets and Hearts,
John Lydon,
Malaria!,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Henry Cow,
Tommy Roe,
Ultravox,
Gichy Dan,
Aswad,
Curtis Mayfield,
Rufus Thomas,
Alice Coltrane,
Swans,
Glambeats Corp.,
Patti Smith,
Derrick Morgan,
Iggy Pop,
Livin' Joy,
Ken Boothe,
Buzzcocks,
Gabor Szabo,
Rapeman,
Newcleus,
Laurel Aitken,
Make Up,
The Count Five,
Lee Hazlewood,
La Düsseldorf,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Gladiators,
Terry Callier,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Cameo,
Skarface,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
In Retrospect,
Ultimate Spinach,
Organ,
Bobbi Humphrey,
cv313,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Yusef Lateef, Yusef Lateef, Yusef Lateef, Yusef Lateef.
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.