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 San Marino and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Birthday Party to the funk 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 Slave. All the underground hits.
All Saccharine Trust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tom Boy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gian Franco Pienzio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ultimate Spinach,
Gichy Dan,
Archie Shepp,
Japan,
Black Moon,
Quadrant,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Electric Prunes,
Qualms,
Maleditus Sound,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Ituana,
The Smiths,
Aaron Thompson,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bauhaus,
The Selecter,
Isaac Hayes,
The Blackbyrds,
Y Pants,
Unwound,
Anakelly,
Eyeless In Gaza,
the Human League,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Subhumans,
Flamin' Groovies,
Moby Grape,
Brass Construction,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Ohio Players,
Sixth Finger,
Altered Images,
Black Pus,
the Sonics,
Kenny Larkin,
Dennis Brown,
Simply Red,
Dead Boys,
The Last Poets,
Kaleidoscope,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Dual Sessions,
KRS-One,
Bootsy Collins,
Davy DMX,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Cramps,
Morten Harket,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Dead C,
Radiohead,
The Move,
Tommy Roe,
Barrington Levy,
the Swans,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
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.