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 Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Sun Ra Arkestra to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Franke. All the underground hits.
All The Litter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiopuhelimet 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Inner City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ralphi Rosario,
The Cramps,
F. McDonald,
Ultra Naté,
Brothers Johnson,
Tommy Roe,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Arthur Verocai,
Fatback Band,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
48th St. Collective,
Gang Gang Dance,
La Düsseldorf,
Hasil Adkins,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Skatalites,
Pylon,
Mo-Dettes,
Black Flag,
the Human League,
Aswad,
Anakelly,
The Blues Magoos,
The Cure,
Make Up,
The Dave Clark Five,
Aloha Tigers,
The Trojans,
Marshall Jefferson,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Dead Boys,
Guru Guru,
The Wake,
The Cowsills,
PIL,
The Moleskins,
Sonny Sharrock,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Delta 5,
The Litter,
The Seeds,
Crooked Eye,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Neon Judgement,
Joy Division,
Moss Icon,
Andrew Hill,
These Immortal Souls,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Thompson Twins,
Ronan,
Cecil Taylor,
Donald Byrd,
Second Layer,
The Barracudas,
New Order,
Masters at Work,
Maurizio,
Public Enemy,
Bobby Sherman,
The Black Dice,
Althea and Donna,
Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day.
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.