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 Dominican Republic and from Seoul.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Cramps to the grunge 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 Deepchord. All the underground hits.
All OOIOO tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grandmaster Flash record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harpers Bizarre,
Y Pants,
Yaz,
Rod Modell,
The Pretty Things,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Deakin,
PIL,
The Human League,
Jandek,
the Fania All-Stars,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Dave Clark Five,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Agent Orange,
Faraquet,
Heaven 17,
Aural Exciters,
Rekid,
Kerri Chandler,
Nirvana,
Eurythmics,
Animal Collective,
Lindisfarne,
The Red Krayola,
Graham Central Station,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Underground Resistance,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Robert Görl,
K-Klass,
The Saints,
Neil Young,
Urselle,
The Seeds,
Fugazi,
Marc Almond,
Spoonie Gee,
Clear Light,
Fluxion,
Howard Jones,
Judy Mowatt,
Eric B and Rakim,
Prince Buster,
MDC,
kango's stein massive,
Ossler,
The Fall,
Harry Pussy,
The Cowsills,
Andrew Hill,
Pantytec,
Drexciya,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Brand Nubian,
Drive Like Jehu,
Motorama,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Colin Newman,
La Düsseldorf,
Metal Thangz,
The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood.
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.