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 Turkmenistan and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Evens to the crunk 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 Byron Stingily. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry's Kids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barry Ungar,
U.S. Maple,
The Monks,
Glenn Branca,
Moby Grape,
AZ,
The Mummies,
The Grass Roots,
John Foxx,
The Wake,
Chris Corsano,
Anakelly,
The Misunderstood,
Kenny Larkin,
Newcleus,
Organ,
Monolake,
Marcia Griffiths,
Matthew Bourne,
The Blues Magoos,
Camberwell Now,
Brand Nubian,
Stiv Bators,
Stockholm Monsters,
Essential Logic,
Jesper Dahlback,
Traffic Nightmare,
Marmalade,
Dave Gahan,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Happenings,
The Slackers,
The Mojo Men,
Robert Hood,
Fatback Band,
Blossom Toes,
The Divine Comedy,
Don Cherry,
Dual Sessions,
The Cure,
Lalo Schifrin,
Pulsallama,
Procol Harum,
Bob Dylan,
The Gories,
Reagan Youth,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Inner City,
Fat Boys,
The Modern Lovers,
Arab on Radar,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Shuggie Otis,
June Days,
The Pretty Things,
Cecil Taylor,
Los Fastidios,
Sonic Youth,
Eurythmics,
Leonard Cohen,
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.