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 Uzbekistan and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Blossom Toes to the disco 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 Unwound. All the underground hits.
All The Last Poets tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every R.M.O. 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Hot Snakes,
Fad Gadget,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Brothers Johnson,
Angry Samoans,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Desert Stars,
Circle Jerks,
New York Dolls,
The Martian,
Toni Rubio,
Lightning Bolt,
Amon Düül,
Das Ding,
Johnny Osbourne,
ABC,
Sex Pistols,
Bauhaus,
Altered Images,
Zapp,
Mantronix,
Animal Collective,
Lungfish,
The Angels of Light,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Flash Fearless,
Suicide,
F. McDonald,
Basic Channel,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Donny Hathaway,
R.M.O.,
Iggy Pop,
Royal Trux,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sällskapet,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Victims,
Bobbi Humphrey,
U.S. Maple,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Thompson Twins,
Lower 48,
The Saints,
Ponytail,
Nik Kershaw,
Big Daddy Kane,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Maurizio,
the Human League,
Oblivians,
Lucky Dragons,
Slave,
Depeche Mode,
Pet Shop Boys,
Joensuu 1685,
Josef K,
Pere Ubu,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Searchers,
K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass.
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.