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 Ecuador and from Tokyo.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 guitar 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 Howard Jones to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Liaisons Dangereuses. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kango’s Stein Massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Isaac Hayes,
Radio Birdman,
Yazoo,
EPMD,
Sun Ra,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
X-101,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Black Dice,
The Fire Engines,
Oneida,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Ten City,
Roy Ayers,
Saccharine Trust,
D'Angelo,
Byron Stingily,
The Monochrome Set,
The Smoke,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bush Tetras,
Derrick May,
Ludus,
Avey Tare,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Janne Schatter,
The Doobie Brothers,
Black Pus,
Don Cherry,
Smog,
Gang of Four,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Outsiders,
Mantronix,
Index,
Matthew Halsall,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Fluxion,
Jacob Miller,
Rites of Spring,
Qualms,
Boogie Down Productions,
Mission of Burma,
Bob Dylan,
Loose Ends,
A Certain Ratio,
Masters at Work,
Severed Heads,
Marmalade,
Traffic Nightmare,
The American Breed,
Sun City Girls,
Barbara Tucker,
Aloha Tigers,
T.S.O.L.,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Marine Girls,
The Music Machine,
the Sonics,
Vladislav Delay,
Alison Limerick,
The Move,
DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style.
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.