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 Indonesia and from Stockholm.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Human League to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Oblivians. All the underground hits.
All Das Ding tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fear record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Al Stewart,
Brass Construction,
Bad Manners,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Trojans,
Los Fastidios,
Gang of Four,
Suicide,
F. McDonald,
Khruangbin,
Jandek,
The Five Americans,
Eve St. Jones,
The Saints,
Josef K,
The Fall,
Oblivians,
Smog,
John Holt,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
a-ha,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Robert Hood,
Girls At Our Best!,
Davy DMX,
Bauhaus,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Echospace,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ultravox,
Gabor Szabo,
X-101,
Loose Ends,
The Gories,
8 Eyed Spy,
Scion,
Nirvana,
The Victims,
Lou Christie,
New York Dolls,
Roxette,
The Monks,
Ludus,
E-Dancer,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Rakim,
Black Bananas,
CMW,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Japan,
Visage,
The Names,
Stockholm Monsters,
Fela Kuti,
Crime,
The Martian,
Gil Scott Heron,
Maleditus Sound,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.