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 Guatemala and from Sao Paulo.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Holger Czukay 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 Toasters to the crunk 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 The American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Eli Mardock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nils Olav 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heavy D & The Boyz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chrome,
Sonic Youth,
Anthony Braxton,
Marmalade,
Porter Ricks,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Music Machine,
Eli Mardock,
Urselle,
The Walker Brothers,
The Smiths,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Litter,
Marcia Griffiths,
Fort Wilson Riot,
the Bar-Kays,
The Toasters,
Sandy B,
In Retrospect,
Television Personalities,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Mr. Review,
Morten Harket,
Second Layer,
Warsaw,
The Count Five,
Ludus,
Gichy Dan,
Scientists,
Cluster,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Stockholm Monsters,
Rotary Connection,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Groovy Waters,
Stiv Bators,
The Sonics,
Amon Düül II,
Sam Rivers,
World's Most,
Interpol,
The Pop Group,
the Sonics,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Fugs,
Slick Rick,
The Standells,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Drexciya,
Hot Snakes,
The Saints,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Slits,
Quando Quango,
Newcleus,
Sight & Sound,
Sexual Harrassment,
X-101,
Main Source,
Harpers Bizarre,
U.S. Maple,
Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going.
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.