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 Mozambique and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Milan.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 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 Leonard Cohen to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Stiv Bators. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & Metallica tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blues Magoos 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Walker Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pere Ubu,
Frankie Knuckles,
Chris Corsano,
Little Man,
Aaron Thompson,
Rosa Yemen,
Lalo Schifrin,
Marcia Griffiths,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Alice Coltrane,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gang Starr,
R.M.O.,
Sparks,
The Litter,
D'Angelo,
The Index,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Monks,
Ultravox,
Fad Gadget,
KRS-One,
David McCallum,
Peter and Kerry,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Marc Almond,
Magazine,
New York Dolls,
Ornette Coleman,
The Golliwogs,
A Certain Ratio,
Jawbox,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Jacob Miller,
Camouflage,
Gong,
Babytalk,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Move,
Make Up,
The Birthday Party,
Pantaleimon,
Bang On A Can,
Simply Red,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Monochrome Set,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Arthur Verocai,
Maleditus Sound,
Scratch Acid,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Shadows of Knight,
Barclay James Harvest,
the Human League,
The Last Poets,
The Evens,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth.
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.