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 South Sudan and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 synthesizer 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 Cure to the rock 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Buzzcocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pet Shop Boys 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalann,
Juan Atkins,
Mr. Review,
Ultravox,
Jacob Miller,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Stooges,
Stockholm Monsters,
T.S.O.L.,
Whodini,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Dirtbombs,
Wings,
Eric B and Rakim,
Radiohead,
Jesper Dahlback,
Traffic Nightmare,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Jawbox,
Marmalade,
H. Thieme,
Jandek,
John Coltrane,
Second Layer,
The Saints,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Animal Collective,
The Gap Band,
The Smoke,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Mojo Men,
Jeff Mills,
Jerry's Kids,
The Young Rascals,
Flamin' Groovies,
Newcleus,
Crispy Ambulance,
Hashim,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Sound,
Los Fastidios,
John Holt,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Leaves,
Robert Görl,
Gabor Szabo,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Count Five,
The Fire Engines,
AZ,
Con Funk Shun,
Susan Cadogan,
Outsiders,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pantaleimon,
Graham Central Station,
The Move,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Zapp,
The Moleskins,
F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald.
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.