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 Barbados and from Delhi.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 MDC to the electroclash 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 Alarm Clocks. All the underground hits.
All Sister Nancy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slackers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Modern Lovers,
DNA,
Motorama,
Bang On A Can,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Magma,
These Immortal Souls,
Electric Prunes,
Nation of Ulysses,
8 Eyed Spy,
ABC,
Darondo,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Arcadia,
Spandau Ballet,
Zapp,
Clear Light,
Skaos,
Subhumans,
Deepchord,
Massinfluence,
Zero Boys,
Charles Mingus,
Althea and Donna,
John Holt,
Derrick Morgan,
Lungfish,
Danielle Patucci,
Wally Richardson,
Dawn Penn,
Tropical Tobacco,
Rosa Yemen,
Harry Pussy,
Chris Corsano,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Hashim,
Bill Near,
World's Most,
The Doobie Brothers,
Warsaw,
Nico,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Surgeon,
Soft Cell,
Buzzcocks,
The Slackers,
Fluxion,
Livin' Joy,
The Young Rascals,
The Cramps,
Roxette,
Bootsy Collins,
The Count Five,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Monochrome Set,
Kurtis Blow,
Radiopuhelimet,
Gastr Del Sol,
KRS-One,
Crash Course in Science,
Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control.
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.