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 Tajikistan and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the guitar 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 New Christs to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Sun Ra Arkestra. All the underground hits.
All Peter and Kerry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liliput record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a KRS-One record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba 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 Zeros,
Deepchord,
The Sonics,
Porter Ricks,
Siglo XX,
Anthony Braxton,
June Days,
Angry Samoans,
Skarface,
Qualms,
Barry Ungar,
Ohio Players,
The Smiths,
The Techniques,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Saccharine Trust,
Nick Fraelich,
Vainqueur,
ABC,
Tropical Tobacco,
Surgeon,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Harry Pussy,
Infiniti,
Motorama,
Soft Cell,
Thompson Twins,
Aaron Thompson,
The Gories,
Janne Schatter,
The Sound,
Glambeats Corp.,
Black Pus,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
E-Dancer,
Josef K,
Sarah Menescal,
Davy DMX,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bad Manners,
H. Thieme,
Howard Jones,
The Last Poets,
The Cowsills,
Al Stewart,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Drive Like Jehu,
Ten City,
Oblivians,
Leonard Cohen,
Roxette,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Dorothy Ashby,
X-Ray Spex,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Schoolly D,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.