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 Germany and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 linndrum 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 Blancmange to the jazz 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 Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All Kerrie Biddell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cluster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Black Dice record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Young Rascals,
Rod Modell,
Laurel Aitken,
Cymande,
Minor Threat,
Echospace,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Faraquet,
Cameo,
Erasure,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Trumans Water,
Clear Light,
Jesper Dahlback,
Traffic Nightmare,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Wings,
The Durutti Column,
The Leaves,
Jawbox,
The Detroit Cobras,
Malaria!,
EPMD,
The Neon Judgement,
Bobby Sherman,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Roxette,
K-Klass,
The Happenings,
Blossom Toes,
Tommy Roe,
Rakim,
Soft Cell,
The Wake,
Pylon,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Neil Young,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Ludus,
Sugar Minott,
Outsiders,
The Mighty Diamonds,
John Lydon,
The Fire Engines,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
a-ha,
Davy DMX,
Kaleidoscope,
Main Source,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Kinks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Quando Quango,
Yellowson,
Idris Muhammad,
Little Man,
Blake Baxter,
Drexciya,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ponytail,
Gong, Gong, Gong, Gong.
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.