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 Bulgaria and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 oboe 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 The Sisters of Mercy 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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Don Cherry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grauzone,
World's Most,
These Immortal Souls,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Don Cherry,
Spandau Ballet,
Bush Tetras,
Liliput,
the Swans,
The Invisible,
The Fire Engines,
The Mummies,
Ultimate Spinach,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Residents,
Eve St. Jones,
Moss Icon,
Toni Rubio,
The Monochrome Set,
Eric B and Rakim,
Moebius,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
OOIOO,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
David Bowie,
The Kinks,
Gabor Szabo,
Infiniti,
Public Image Ltd.,
Chris Corsano,
Tres Demented,
David Axelrod,
Gastr Del Sol,
Oblivians,
Anakelly,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Flesh Eaters,
X-Ray Spex,
Masters at Work,
Mission of Burma,
The Remains,
Massinfluence,
Archie Shepp,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Eden Ahbez,
Monks,
Cheater Slicks,
Model 500,
The Alarm Clocks,
Porter Ricks,
The Angels of Light,
Cameo,
Mars,
the Slits,
Make Up,
Jacob Miller,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Mr. Review,
Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters.
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.