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 Jordan and from Houston.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Paris.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 New Order to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Lucky Dragons. All the underground hits.
All The Vogues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mojo Men 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slackers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Graham Central Station,
June of 44,
Ultimate Spinach,
Arab on Radar,
Iggy Pop,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Public Enemy,
Marcia Griffiths,
Isaac Hayes,
Byron Stingily,
The Birthday Party,
Marine Girls,
The Black Dice,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Young Rascals,
The Associates,
Blake Baxter,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Marvin Gaye,
DNA,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Brass Construction,
Juan Atkins,
Connie Case,
Ken Boothe,
The Walker Brothers,
The Smiths,
48th St. Collective,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Althea and Donna,
Fat Boys,
Silicon Teens,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Roxette,
K-Klass,
Intrusion,
Henry Cow,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Roxy Music,
Delta 5,
Robert Görl,
Laurel Aitken,
Judy Mowatt,
Chris & Cosey,
Lalann,
Slick Rick,
Underground Resistance,
James White and The Blacks,
Traffic Nightmare,
Los Fastidios,
Pylon,
R.M.O.,
Electric Prunes,
U.S. Maple,
Mr. Review,
Jacques Brel,
Q65,
cv313,
Jeru the Damaja,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.