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 Czech Republic and from Houston.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the güiro 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 Kaleidoscope to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Con Funk Shun record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q65,
The Dirtbombs,
Moebius,
The Standells,
Radio Birdman,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Robert Hood,
FM Einheit,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Mo-Dettes,
The Litter,
Black Flag,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Slackers,
The Fortunes,
L. Decosne,
The Techniques,
Swans,
The Divine Comedy,
Marmalade,
Marine Girls,
Zapp,
Echospace,
Crash Course in Science,
The Electric Prunes,
Kool Moe Dee,
Tommy Roe,
Harmonia,
Sex Pistols,
Technova,
Harry Pussy,
Marvin Gaye,
Animal Collective,
a-ha,
Suburban Knight,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Rufus Thomas,
The Buckinghams,
Intrusion,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Drexciya,
The New Christs,
Make Up,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Youth Brigade,
The Birthday Party,
Sandy B,
In Retrospect,
Max Romeo,
Minutemen,
Mark Hollis,
Bluetip,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bang On A Can,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Half Japanese,
Morten Harket,
Swell Maps,
Siglo XX,
KRS-One,
Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters.
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.