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 Kosovo and from Spokane.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 organ 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 Throbbing Gristle to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All Deakin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Newcleus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
UT,
The Remains,
Tom Boy,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Mission of Burma,
Alphaville,
Surgeon,
Connie Case,
cv313,
Organ,
Don Cherry,
Heaven 17,
The Raincoats,
Los Fastidios,
the Sonics,
The Divine Comedy,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Doobie Brothers,
Boogie Down Productions,
Fatback Band,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Subhumans,
Talk Talk,
Liliput,
PIL,
Gang of Four,
The Red Krayola,
The American Breed,
Deadbeat,
Roxette,
Television Personalities,
Joe Finger,
Reagan Youth,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Neil Young,
Slick Rick,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Archie Shepp,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Wake,
Mary Jane Girls,
Mandrill,
Cheater Slicks,
Bang On A Can,
Soul II Soul,
Severed Heads,
Sun Ra,
The Birthday Party,
Peter and Kerry,
a-ha,
Big Daddy Kane,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Associates,
Pharoah Sanders,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
the Bar-Kays,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Pretty Things,
The Offenders,
Carl Craig,
The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges.
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.