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 Ukraine and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the clarinet 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 The Last Poets to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Germs. All the underground hits.
All Tres Demented tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker + Sunn O))) 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minny Pops record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
June of 44,
Cluster,
Excepter,
Erykah Badu,
The Stooges,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Fugs,
Anthony Braxton,
Maurizio,
David Axelrod,
Sun Ra,
Moby Grape,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Bootsy Collins,
Kenny Larkin,
Chris Corsano,
Marc Almond,
John Cale,
Nik Kershaw,
The Sound,
Deadbeat,
The Dead C,
Mars,
Echospace,
Quadrant,
Ten City,
Skarface,
Nation of Ulysses,
Toni Rubio,
Cheater Slicks,
The Red Krayola,
X-101,
Massinfluence,
Hoover,
Lower 48,
Connie Case,
the Swans,
Lee Hazlewood,
World's Most,
Aloha Tigers,
Gastr Del Sol,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Make Up,
Interpol,
The Associates,
Livin' Joy,
The Buckinghams,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Martian,
Tomorrow,
Youth Brigade,
Pylon,
8 Eyed Spy,
R.M.O.,
the Sonics,
Fugazi,
Absolute Body Control,
Freddie Wadling,
Mad Mike,
Bobby Byrd,
Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen.
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.