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 Ivory Coast and from Tehran.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Paris.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All Soul II Soul tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New York Dolls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crash Course in Science record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Television,
Motorama,
Sexual Harrassment,
Joe Finger,
Porter Ricks,
Eurythmics,
Clear Light,
Patti Smith,
Joe Smooth,
Von Mondo,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Reagan Youth,
Swell Maps,
Mandrill,
The Raincoats,
Buzzcocks,
Brothers Johnson,
The Human League,
Quando Quango,
Half Japanese,
Audionom,
Skarface,
The Fall,
Public Enemy,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Symarip,
Neu!,
Joey Negro,
Schoolly D,
Black Pus,
Robert Wyatt,
Little Man,
Blake Baxter,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lyres,
Kenny Larkin,
The Martian,
The Offenders,
Mars,
Wally Richardson,
AZ,
In Retrospect,
Blancmange,
Radiohead,
Tommy Roe,
The Knickerbockers,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lou Reed,
the Sonics,
UT,
Sound Behaviour,
JFA,
The Names,
Marvin Gaye,
Bluetip,
John Coltrane,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Graham Central Station,
Roxy Music,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.