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 Sweden and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 chamberlin 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 Arthur Verocai to the crunk 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 Harry Pussy. All the underground hits.
All The Stooges tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every One Last Wish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Richard Hell and the Voidoids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
The Star Department,
Minny Pops,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sex Pistols,
Easy Going,
Popol Vuh,
Model 500,
Rites of Spring,
The Divine Comedy,
Nation of Ulysses,
Avey Tare,
Fugazi,
The Motions,
The Neon Judgement,
Newcleus,
Nas,
The Moleskins,
Terry Callier,
Camberwell Now,
Ralphi Rosario,
Echospace,
ABBA,
Eden Ahbez,
Letta Mbulu,
Bob Dylan,
World's Most,
The Martian,
These Immortal Souls,
The Victims,
Reuben Wilson,
Intrusion,
H. Thieme,
Kevin Saunderson,
Peter and Kerry,
Aloha Tigers,
Nico,
Audionom,
Visage,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Jeff Mills,
Don Cherry,
The Real Kids,
The Slackers,
The Blackbyrds,
Neil Young,
Clear Light,
F. McDonald,
The Walker Brothers,
John Foxx,
The Fire Engines,
Gang Gang Dance,
One Last Wish,
The Cramps,
The Cowsills,
Rotary Connection,
The Toasters,
The Golliwogs,
Prince Buster,
Derrick May,
Glenn Branca,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim.
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.