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 Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 H. Thieme to the disco 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All Heaven 17 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pylon,
Mr. Review,
La Düsseldorf,
Grey Daturas,
Tubeway Army,
Mad Mike,
Lindisfarne,
The J.B.'s,
Mo-Dettes,
Wolf Eyes,
Saccharine Trust,
Graham Central Station,
The Seeds,
The Music Machine,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Henry Cow,
Circle Jerks,
Quadrant,
PIL,
Section 25,
Danielle Patucci,
Joe Finger,
The Tremeloes,
Joensuu 1685,
Soul Sonic Force,
Das Ding,
The Happenings,
The Techniques,
Brand Nubian,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ice-T,
Scratch Acid,
the Association,
Jawbox,
Matthew Halsall,
Symarip,
Flash Fearless,
Grandmaster Flash,
Banda Bassotti,
Moebius,
Fear,
Zapp,
Harry Pussy,
Robert Hood,
the Normal,
The Detroit Cobras,
Niagra,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Newcleus,
Maleditus Sound,
The Moleskins,
D'Angelo,
Liliput,
Eddi Front,
Scion,
The Fugs,
The Beau Brummels,
The Names,
The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans.
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.