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 South Sudan and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sonics to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Flamin' Groovies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every World's Most record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Massinfluence,
Throbbing Gristle,
B.T. Express,
Beasts of Bourbon,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Skriet,
a-ha,
The Pop Group,
Intrusion,
Excepter,
Soft Cell,
Anakelly,
Barry Ungar,
Amazonics,
Sun City Girls,
Kerri Chandler,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Velvet Underground,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Birthday Party,
Shoche,
Davy DMX,
Nas,
The Sound,
Rod Modell,
Erasure,
Johnny Osbourne,
Shuggie Otis,
Charles Mingus,
Barbara Tucker,
Quantec,
Frankie Knuckles,
Rotary Connection,
MC5,
Radiohead,
Public Enemy,
Mo-Dettes,
Yusef Lateef,
The Slackers,
The Five Americans,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Swell Maps,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Youth Brigade,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Angels of Light,
Roxette,
Chrome,
The Moleskins,
Average White Band,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
June Days,
The Fuzztones,
Eric B and Rakim,
Anthony Braxton,
Pere Ubu,
Gastr Del Sol,
Model 500,
The Fortunes,
Deepchord,
Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May.
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.