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 Nicaragua and from Portland.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Jesper Dahlback to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 X-101. All the underground hits.
All The Cosmic Jokers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jandek 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flipper,
kango's stein massive,
Absolute Body Control,
X-101,
Erasure,
Soft Cell,
Scion,
Gregory Isaacs,
Wally Richardson,
Von Mondo,
Eddi Front,
The Black Dice,
The Neon Judgement,
Ultra Naté,
James White and The Blacks,
X-102,
The Names,
Los Fastidios,
Whodini,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Royal Trux,
The Birthday Party,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Minutemen,
Black Sheep,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Pop Group,
Japan,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Victims,
Rapeman,
The New Christs,
the Normal,
The Beau Brummels,
Clear Light,
Tom Boy,
The Remains,
Rekid,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Divine Comedy,
ABBA,
Vladislav Delay,
Deakin,
The Knickerbockers,
Easy Going,
Traffic Nightmare,
June Days,
Quadrant,
Bobbi Humphrey,
New York Dolls,
Rod Modell,
Aswad,
Lou Reed,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Wolf Eyes,
Judy Mowatt,
The Wake,
Eric Dolphy,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Misunderstood,
Pole,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Crooked Eye,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.