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 the UAE and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Newcleus. All the underground hits.
All Rod Modell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monolake record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smiths,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The American Breed,
Lalo Schifrin,
Popol Vuh,
CMW,
The Searchers,
The Moody Blues,
DNA,
Pet Shop Boys,
Technova,
Goldenarms,
Smog,
Crispy Ambulance,
Mo-Dettes,
Letta Mbulu,
Tomorrow,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Terry Callier,
Circle Jerks,
Adolescents,
The Blues Magoos,
The Human League,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Camouflage,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Wasted Youth,
D'Angelo,
Lucky Dragons,
Mantronix,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Moss Icon,
Scrapy,
Deepchord,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Birthday Party,
Charles Mingus,
These Immortal Souls,
The Knickerbockers,
Funky Four + One,
Aswad,
Fugazi,
Brass Construction,
The Saints,
Public Enemy,
Roxy Music,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Crooked Eye,
Royal Trux,
World's Most,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Quantec,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Vladislav Delay,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sister Nancy,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Harpers Bizarre,
Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz.
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.