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 Afghanistan and from Jakarta.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Brass Construction to the rock 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 Harpers Bizarre. All the underground hits.
All Ice-T tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minutemen,
Rhythm & Sound,
Peter & Gordon,
Robert Hood,
Marine Girls,
Dawn Penn,
Vainqueur,
The Saints,
Soulsonic Force,
Scrapy,
Leonard Cohen,
Arthur Verocai,
Outsiders,
Bobby Byrd,
Josef K,
The J.B.'s,
The Kinks,
D'Angelo,
Porter Ricks,
The Birthday Party,
Q and Not U,
Agent Orange,
Essential Logic,
Ohio Players,
Roy Ayers,
The Monochrome Set,
Joe Smooth,
Pet Shop Boys,
Wolf Eyes,
The Black Dice,
Organ,
Fear,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Lou Reed,
Anthony Braxton,
Pylon,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lindisfarne,
The Tremeloes,
Boredoms,
Fat Boys,
Thompson Twins,
The Move,
Wasted Youth,
The Knickerbockers,
Soft Machine,
Brand Nubian,
Talk Talk,
Grauzone,
Laurel Aitken,
Wally Richardson,
The Seeds,
Severed Heads,
Von Mondo,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Sonics,
Gerry Rafferty,
Ludus,
Ultravox,
The Victims,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sixth Finger,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.