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 East Timor and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the guitar 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the rap 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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Outsiders 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Peter and Kerry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
KRS-One,
Piero Umiliani,
Zero Boys,
The Buckinghams,
Wasted Youth,
Gang Green,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Jerry's Kids,
R.M.O.,
Niagra,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Morten Harket,
Angry Samoans,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Todd Terry,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Joe Smooth,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Barry Ungar,
The Velvet Underground,
Buzzcocks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kayak,
The Detroit Cobras,
Minny Pops,
Soulsonic Force,
Barclay James Harvest,
MDC,
Quantec,
Black Sheep,
Khruangbin,
Crash Course in Science,
Donny Hathaway,
Kerri Chandler,
8 Eyed Spy,
Make Up,
Babytalk,
Roger Hodgson,
Ronan,
The Human League,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sexual Harrassment,
John Holt,
Brick,
The Neon Judgement,
Monks,
The Associates,
Cameo,
Roxy Music,
In Retrospect,
David Axelrod,
Radiohead,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Surgeon,
Sonny Sharrock,
Moss Icon,
The Mojo Men,
Rod Modell,
Ossler,
Deadbeat,
Depeche Mode,
Jesper Dahlback,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
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.