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 Panama and from Toronto.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Boredoms to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Patti Smith. All the underground hits.
All Todd Terry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pet Shop Boys,
Lalann,
Skaos,
The Trojans,
The Durutti Column,
8 Eyed Spy,
Brass Construction,
Talk Talk,
Cheater Slicks,
Gang Starr,
Bobby Sherman,
Cybotron,
Nirvana,
David McCallum,
The Blackbyrds,
Aloha Tigers,
Dorothy Ashby,
Q and Not U,
the Human League,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
JFA,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Terry Callier,
Skarface,
X-Ray Spex,
MDC,
Jandek,
Morten Harket,
Agent Orange,
Nik Kershaw,
Niagra,
Bush Tetras,
Arthur Verocai,
Absolute Body Control,
Simply Red,
Dave Gahan,
Qualms,
The Evens,
Procol Harum,
Clear Light,
Bootsy Collins,
Essential Logic,
Rufus Thomas,
Index,
Altered Images,
Tropical Tobacco,
Alton Ellis,
John Coltrane,
the Fania All-Stars,
June of 44,
Fad Gadget,
Buzzcocks,
X-102,
Animal Collective,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Associates,
Dead Boys,
Harpers Bizarre,
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.