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 Ukraine and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 Accra and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 theremin 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 Dead Boys to the techno 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 The Velvet Underground. All the underground hits.
All Minnie Riperton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ituana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Rundgren,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Don Cherry,
Robert Hood,
Q65,
Mission of Burma,
Adolescents,
Half Japanese,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
This Heat,
Groovy Waters,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Mr. Review,
E-Dancer,
The Happenings,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Kinks,
The Walker Brothers,
Glenn Branca,
Faust,
Boz Scaggs,
Monolake,
The Trojans,
Duran Duran,
Minor Threat,
The United States of America,
Rites of Spring,
Hoover,
T. Rex,
The Cowsills,
Deadbeat,
John Coltrane,
Guru Guru,
Ice-T,
Kevin Saunderson,
Alton Ellis,
Tomorrow,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Amon Düül,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Wally Richardson,
Black Sheep,
The New Christs,
Clear Light,
Whodini,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Curtis Mayfield,
Maleditus Sound,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Anthony Braxton,
Masters at Work,
Mark Hollis,
Zapp,
Joe Finger,
Lower 48,
Magazine,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Doors,
The Slackers,
Susan Cadogan,
The Grass Roots,
Deepchord,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.