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 San Marino and from Spokane.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 808 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 Marcia Griffiths to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Vladislav Delay. All the underground hits.
All Los Fastidios tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pole record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bush Tetras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rosa Yemen,
Royal Trux,
Lucky Dragons,
Vainqueur,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Fad Gadget,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Kenny Larkin,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Lungfish,
Traffic Nightmare,
Deadbeat,
Funky Four + One,
Dawn Penn,
June Days,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
U.S. Maple,
Drive Like Jehu,
the Normal,
Fatback Band,
Minutemen,
Tim Buckley,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Happenings,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Barry Ungar,
John Holt,
The Pretty Things,
Theoretical Girls,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Jeru the Damaja,
Adolescents,
Roy Ayers,
Mad Mike,
The Misunderstood,
Crooked Eye,
Motorama,
Dead Boys,
Faraquet,
The Blues Magoos,
Anakelly,
The Stooges,
Erasure,
Cluster,
Nils Olav,
Marc Almond,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Excepter,
Talk Talk,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Henry Cow,
Throbbing Gristle,
Intrusion,
Janne Schatter,
Terrestrial Tones,
Monolake,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Von Mondo,
Surgeon,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Vogues,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.