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 Belarus and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Pantytec to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Fuzztones. All the underground hits.
All Pere Ubu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Theoretical Girls 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Michelle Simonal,
Donald Byrd,
The Divine Comedy,
Albert Ayler,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Delta 5,
Byron Stingily,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Beau Brummels,
Siglo XX,
The Cramps,
Animal Collective,
Alton Ellis,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Unwound,
Qualms,
Monks,
Deadbeat,
The Golliwogs,
Rhythm & Sound,
Wolf Eyes,
Theoretical Girls,
Jesper Dahlback,
Lyres,
Duran Duran,
Harry Pussy,
Moebius,
The Young Rascals,
Fad Gadget,
This Heat,
Roy Ayers,
The Sonics,
Graham Central Station,
Glenn Branca,
The Evens,
Dual Sessions,
Joyce Sims,
Hoover,
Sister Nancy,
The Mojo Men,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
New Age Steppers,
Sarah Menescal,
Leonard Cohen,
Connie Case,
Marcia Griffiths,
Rites of Spring,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Banda Bassotti,
K-Klass,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Soulsonic Force,
John Holt,
Public Enemy,
The Red Krayola,
Peter & Gordon,
Joensuu 1685,
The Trojans,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Scientists, Scientists, Scientists, Scientists.
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.