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 Peru and from Cairo.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Tomorrow to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Mark Hollis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every OOIOO record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Grass Roots,
The Alarm Clocks,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
F. McDonald,
Thee Headcoats,
Donny Hathaway,
Slick Rick,
Half Japanese,
Connie Case,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Names,
Von Mondo,
Boredoms,
Nation of Ulysses,
Darondo,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Barrington Levy,
Amon Düül,
Aaron Thompson,
Piero Umiliani,
Sister Nancy,
Patti Smith,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Gun Club,
Magma,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rosa Yemen,
X-Ray Spex,
Morten Harket,
Echospace,
The Mojo Men,
The Mummies,
Little Man,
DJ Style,
Crime,
D'Angelo,
The Blackbyrds,
The Red Krayola,
Cluster,
Minutemen,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Doors,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Pole,
Radiopuhelimet,
Cymande,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Blake Baxter,
Warsaw,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Angels of Light,
The Sound,
the Slits,
Banda Bassotti,
La Düsseldorf,
Roxette,
Malaria!,
The Shadows of Knight, The Shadows of Knight, The Shadows of Knight, The Shadows of Knight.
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.