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 Suriname and from Jakarta.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bologna.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the guitar 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 Barry Ungar to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Siouxsie and the Banshees. All the underground hits.
All Tubeway Army tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Golliwogs 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
EPMD,
The Divine Comedy,
Brass Construction,
Arthur Verocai,
The Mummies,
The Golliwogs,
Black Sheep,
Sex Pistols,
Grey Daturas,
Lower 48,
E-Dancer,
Reuben Wilson,
Blossom Toes,
Scientists,
Heaven 17,
The Dirtbombs,
The Index,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Prince Buster,
Con Funk Shun,
Faust,
Jacques Brel,
Dorothy Ashby,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Groovy Waters,
This Heat,
The Velvet Underground,
Shoche,
The Gap Band,
Johnny Clarke,
Pylon,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Technova,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Bar-Kays,
Blancmange,
Albert Ayler,
Soft Machine,
Rufus Thomas,
Livin' Joy,
8 Eyed Spy,
James White and The Blacks,
Slave,
Los Fastidios,
FM Einheit,
Arcadia,
Lucky Dragons,
The Move,
Isaac Hayes,
Ossler,
The Pop Group,
Siglo XX,
The Modern Lovers,
Erykah Badu,
The Doors,
The Raincoats,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Spoonie Gee,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Monks,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines.
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.