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 Ethiopia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Glenn Branca to the electroclash 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 Camberwell Now. All the underground hits.
All Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joe Finger 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?
The Flesh Eaters,
Yaz,
Malaria!,
Ludus,
the Association,
Wolf Eyes,
Grandmaster Flash,
Circle Jerks,
Derrick Morgan,
Quando Quango,
8 Eyed Spy,
Scott Walker,
Alison Limerick,
Amon Düül II,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Harry Pussy,
The Human League,
Jesper Dahlback,
Little Man,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gang of Four,
the Soft Cell,
Rosa Yemen,
Panda Bear,
Kurtis Blow,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ken Boothe,
The Kinks,
K-Klass,
Talk Talk,
B.T. Express,
Sister Nancy,
Althea and Donna,
Morten Harket,
The Beau Brummels,
Brothers Johnson,
Parry Music,
Mark Hollis,
The Sonics,
Pussy Galore,
Radiopuhelimet,
Cal Tjader,
Joey Negro,
Peter and Kerry,
Japan,
A Certain Ratio,
Sexual Harrassment,
John Coltrane,
Andrew Hill,
Joy Division,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Jawbox,
Minny Pops,
Max Romeo,
Black Bananas,
FM Einheit,
Slick Rick,
Ponytail,
the Normal,
Lalann,
Cymande,
Chris Corsano,
DJ Sneak,
Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith.
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.