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 Oman and from Hong Kong.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the guitar 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 Lightning Bolt to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Y Pants. All the underground hits.
All Barbara Tucker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Index,
the Association,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Kenny Larkin,
Public Enemy,
One Last Wish,
Eli Mardock,
Erasure,
Black Moon,
The Shadows of Knight,
Lightning Bolt,
Desert Stars,
B.T. Express,
kango's stein massive,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Animal Collective,
Depeche Mode,
Tom Boy,
Archie Shepp,
Procol Harum,
The Beau Brummels,
The Selecter,
Marc Almond,
Brass Construction,
Motorama,
New York Dolls,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lungfish,
Boogie Down Productions,
Tubeway Army,
The Monochrome Set,
ABC,
Boredoms,
The Residents,
Sam Rivers,
Scott Walker,
Piero Umiliani,
Quantec,
Lucky Dragons,
Joy Division,
The Remains,
Minnie Riperton,
Roger Hodgson,
Underground Resistance,
Cameo,
Junior Murvin,
Saccharine Trust,
Mo-Dettes,
Jimmy McGriff,
Chris & Cosey,
Delta 5,
Little Man,
Buzzcocks,
Vainqueur,
The Misunderstood,
Maurizio,
Moby Grape,
The Seeds,
Echospace,
World's Most,
Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna.
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.