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 Cambodia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the güiro 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 Altered Images to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Offenders. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wasted Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
X-Ray Spex,
The Pop Group,
Bootsy Collins,
Patti Smith,
Gang Starr,
Soft Machine,
Ralphi Rosario,
Electric Light Orchestra,
John Cale,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Skarface,
The Index,
Main Source,
Siglo XX,
Connie Case,
Eric B and Rakim,
Oneida,
Dorothy Ashby,
Fear,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Dirtbombs,
Kaleidoscope,
Alton Ellis,
Gil Scott Heron,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Fall,
Fluxion,
Infiniti,
The Moody Blues,
Pere Ubu,
Mantronix,
Cal Tjader,
The Human League,
Cybotron,
Marshall Jefferson,
Arthur Verocai,
Mo-Dettes,
Suicide,
The Trojans,
Con Funk Shun,
Barbara Tucker,
Steve Hackett,
Grandmaster Flash,
Frankie Knuckles,
Glenn Branca,
Angry Samoans,
UT,
Metal Thangz,
Glambeats Corp.,
Laurel Aitken,
Motorama,
The Music Machine,
the Association,
Soul II Soul,
Vainqueur,
Niagra,
Cecil Taylor,
The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos.
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.