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 Cambodia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 mellotron 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 Beau Brummels to the grime 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 Pharoah Sanders. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pulsallama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Metal Thangz,
The Wake,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Dirtbombs,
Blake Baxter,
Camberwell Now,
Suburban Knight,
The Modern Lovers,
Leonard Cohen,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Khruangbin,
The Associates,
Au Pairs,
Alison Limerick,
Pharoah Sanders,
Malaria!,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Star Department,
Organ,
The Zeros,
Sex Pistols,
Technova,
New York Dolls,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Grass Roots,
ABC,
Freddie Wadling,
Al Stewart,
Maleditus Sound,
Monks,
David Bowie,
Deakin,
Graham Central Station,
Hoover,
Gang Starr,
Cheater Slicks,
Erasure,
The Detroit Cobras,
Minny Pops,
Eric Dolphy,
Archie Shepp,
The Monks,
Gregory Isaacs,
the Bar-Kays,
John Holt,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Birthday Party,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
the Slits,
Boredoms,
Bronski Beat,
LL Cool J,
Nation of Ulysses,
Ice-T,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Radiohead,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.