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 Colombia and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Edmonton.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Last Poets to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Barry Ungar. All the underground hits.
All The Mighty Diamonds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Junior Murvin 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 an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fifty Foot Hose record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Slackers,
Absolute Body Control,
Lou Christie,
Lower 48,
Moss Icon,
10cc,
Marc Almond,
Moebius,
the Association,
Angry Samoans,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bill Wells,
The Remains,
Harpers Bizarre,
Skarface,
MDC,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Doors,
Alphaville,
Rites of Spring,
the Human League,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Roxy Music,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
48th St. Collective,
F. McDonald,
Depeche Mode,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Gories,
The Residents,
Bob Dylan,
Scratch Acid,
Morten Harket,
The Gun Club,
Johnny Osbourne,
JFA,
The Victims,
Ohio Players,
Delta 5,
Organ,
Byron Stingily,
Cecil Taylor,
Bill Near,
Fad Gadget,
The Saints,
Flipper,
Vainqueur,
Soul II Soul,
Tears for Fears,
Delon & Dalcan,
Kurtis Blow,
Spoonie Gee,
John Coltrane,
The Move,
The Fire Engines,
Amazonics,
the Normal,
Agent Orange,
Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water.
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.