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 Mexico and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 DNA to the dance 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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Todd Terry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
Black Sheep,
Faust,
The Fortunes,
Chris Corsano,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Tears for Fears,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Severed Heads,
Lakeside,
The Tremeloes,
Can,
Eli Mardock,
Marcia Griffiths,
Andrew Hill,
Metal Thangz,
Thee Headcoats,
Subhumans,
Minnie Riperton,
Newcleus,
Roxette,
Judy Mowatt,
ABC,
John Coltrane,
Sam Rivers,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Modern Lovers,
the Swans,
Minor Threat,
Soul II Soul,
Camberwell Now,
8 Eyed Spy,
Joensuu 1685,
Rakim,
The Smiths,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Con Funk Shun,
Amazonics,
June of 44,
Glenn Branca,
Pole,
Kevin Saunderson,
Khruangbin,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Evens,
John Foxx,
Dark Day,
Massinfluence,
the Soft Cell,
Wally Richardson,
Lebanon Hanover,
Lyres,
Davy DMX,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Maurizio,
Sixth Finger,
Das Ding,
Intrusion,
Eddi Front,
Tomorrow,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.