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 Turkmenistan and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 mellotron 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 Neil Young & Crazy Horse to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Bobby Sherman. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Piero Umiliani,
Jacques Brel,
Man Parrish,
Stereo Dub,
Trumans Water,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
MDC,
Skaos,
Surgeon,
Prince Buster,
Maurizio,
Monks,
Faraquet,
Country Teasers,
Gerry Rafferty,
Robert Wyatt,
The Raincoats,
KRS-One,
Amon Düül,
Cal Tjader,
Aural Exciters,
Crispian St. Peters,
Warren Ellis,
The Vogues,
Vainqueur,
Minny Pops,
Bobby Byrd,
Wolf Eyes,
Zapp,
Sun City Girls,
Cluster,
Babytalk,
Josef K,
The Saints,
The Litter,
Freddie Wadling,
Second Layer,
Bauhaus,
June Days,
Byron Stingily,
Ice-T,
Black Flag,
Gang Starr,
Deakin,
Marshall Jefferson,
Spandau Ballet,
Rites of Spring,
Fugazi,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Yaz,
Boredoms,
Cybotron,
Lower 48,
Scientists,
The Alarm Clocks,
Los Fastidios,
Goldenarms,
The Cowsills,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jimmy McGriff,
X-102, X-102, X-102, X-102.
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.