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 Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Davy DMX to the crunk 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 The Kinks. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Flag 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siglo XX record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Scion,
Procol Harum,
Brick,
Gang Green,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
T.S.O.L.,
The Fire Engines,
Juan Atkins,
Icehouse,
Lou Reed,
Warsaw,
Chris & Cosey,
Mad Mike,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Outsiders,
Tres Demented,
cv313,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Carl Craig,
Tommy Roe,
Matthew Halsall,
The Gladiators,
Smog,
Loose Ends,
Pagans,
Skarface,
Alice Coltrane,
The Blues Magoos,
Rapeman,
Amon Düül,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Victims,
Quadrant,
Glenn Branca,
Radio Birdman,
B.T. Express,
Nick Fraelich,
Adolescents,
Bill Wells,
The Names,
Bronski Beat,
Lou Christie,
Stockholm Monsters,
Young Marble Giants,
Alphaville,
Underground Resistance,
The Five Americans,
Al Stewart,
The Motions,
Hasil Adkins,
Sonny Sharrock,
Unwound,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Charles Mingus,
Thee Headcoats,
In Retrospect,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.