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 New Zealand and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Dirtbombs to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Wire. All the underground hits.
All Jandek tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blake Baxter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Youth Brigade,
Scientists,
The Fall,
Pierre Henry,
These Immortal Souls,
Robert Görl,
Tomorrow,
This Heat,
X-Ray Spex,
Lou Christie,
Cymande,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Make Up,
Arab on Radar,
the Sonics,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Selecter,
Gabor Szabo,
Judy Mowatt,
Ice-T,
Lungfish,
Absolute Body Control,
The Count Five,
The Offenders,
Au Pairs,
Little Man,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Rod Modell,
In Retrospect,
Cluster,
The Slackers,
Gichy Dan,
John Cale,
The Pop Group,
Eyeless In Gaza,
48th St. Collective,
Johnny Clarke,
Bobby Womack,
Aural Exciters,
Gregory Isaacs,
Ponytail,
Rites of Spring,
The Techniques,
Bob Dylan,
Max Romeo,
The Dead C,
The J.B.'s,
Deadbeat,
June Days,
Sun Ra,
Inner City,
Pagans,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Charles Mingus,
Bill Wells,
Kaleidoscope,
Thee Headcoats,
Nirvana,
Liliput,
Saccharine Trust,
Sarah Menescal,
The Fugs,
Skaos,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.