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 Haiti and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 theremin 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 New Christs to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Smoke. All the underground hits.
All The Fuzztones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Von Mondo 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swans,
Barrington Levy,
Saccharine Trust,
Drexciya,
E-Dancer,
Underground Resistance,
The Angels of Light,
The Gories,
Cameo,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Doobie Brothers,
Cheater Slicks,
Wings,
a-ha,
Magazine,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Chrome,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lower 48,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Crispian St. Peters,
Hasil Adkins,
Chris Corsano,
Dennis Brown,
The Red Krayola,
Yazoo,
Barbara Tucker,
Suburban Knight,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Modern Lovers,
Arthur Verocai,
Alphaville,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Mission of Burma,
Funky Four + One,
Massinfluence,
Deadbeat,
The Cure,
Charles Mingus,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Josef K,
Todd Terry,
Dual Sessions,
David Bowie,
The Happenings,
L. Decosne,
The Martian,
Rosa Yemen,
Gregory Isaacs,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
New York Dolls,
ABC,
Connie Case,
The United States of America,
Lucky Dragons,
Sixth Finger,
Main Source,
DNA,
The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs.
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.