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 Sudan and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 Beijing and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Monks to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Five Americans. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Real Kids 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hot Snakes,
Crime,
Matthew Halsall,
Crispian St. Peters,
Charles Mingus,
Gichy Dan,
Davy DMX,
The Misunderstood,
The Angels of Light,
Man Eating Sloth,
Buzzcocks,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Todd Terry,
Talk Talk,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Hashim,
FM Einheit,
Bill Near,
Jerry's Kids,
Warsaw,
Intrusion,
Rites of Spring,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Quando Quango,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bang On A Can,
The Buckinghams,
Lalann,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
E-Dancer,
T. Rex,
Henry Cow,
Drexciya,
Black Moon,
Ludus,
Quadrant,
The Victims,
David Bowie,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lee Hazlewood,
Albert Ayler,
X-Ray Spex,
Funkadelic,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
DJ Sneak,
Nick Fraelich,
Kenny Larkin,
The Moody Blues,
Pulsallama,
Tubeway Army,
Minor Threat,
Supertramp,
Todd Rundgren,
Scratch Acid,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Prince Buster,
Royal Trux,
the Sonics,
John Cale,
John Lydon,
T.S.O.L.,
Heaven 17,
Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless.
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.