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 Venezuela and from Manila.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Youth Brigade to the electroclash 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 The Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eli Mardock 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang of Four,
Terry Callier,
Half Japanese,
The Invisible,
Jeru the Damaja,
China Crisis,
Index,
John Cale,
Lebanon Hanover,
Glenn Branca,
Soulsonic Force,
Eric Dolphy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Slave,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Vogues,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Sonics,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
David Bowie,
Flipper,
Nils Olav,
Piero Umiliani,
Wally Richardson,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Cybotron,
Al Stewart,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Darondo,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Scan 7,
the Slits,
Make Up,
The Buckinghams,
Grandmaster Flash,
Iggy Pop,
The Red Krayola,
Connie Case,
Model 500,
Mo-Dettes,
The Beau Brummels,
Unwound,
Mr. Review,
Minnie Riperton,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Brothers Johnson,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Absolute Body Control,
Soul II Soul,
Heaven 17,
Depeche Mode,
Sarah Menescal,
Alton Ellis,
The Wake,
Inner City,
R.M.O.,
Blake Baxter,
Sällskapet,
The American Breed,
Derrick May,
Eyeless In Gaza,
the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics.
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.