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 Australia and from Taipei.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Magazine to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All Sister Nancy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Cybotron,
Y Pants,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bobby Byrd,
Los Fastidios,
The Associates,
Marmalade,
Clear Light,
Freddie Wadling,
Radio Birdman,
Make Up,
The Shadows of Knight,
JFA,
Flash Fearless,
Slave,
The Wake,
The Busters,
The Gun Club,
The Barracudas,
the Swans,
The Five Americans,
Lou Reed,
These Immortal Souls,
Oblivians,
Guru Guru,
Mo-Dettes,
New York Dolls,
Tom Boy,
The Music Machine,
New Age Steppers,
The Walker Brothers,
Kas Product,
Fat Boys,
Roxette,
Depeche Mode,
Aaron Thompson,
Rites of Spring,
Goldenarms,
Amon Düül,
Peter and Kerry,
Inner City,
Echospace,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Standells,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ohio Players,
Metal Thangz,
Spoonie Gee,
The Happenings,
Sonic Youth,
Babytalk,
Suicide,
Shuggie Otis,
Danielle Patucci,
Cecil Taylor,
The Offenders,
Public Enemy,
Gregory Isaacs,
Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic.
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.