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 Sweden and from Beijing.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 guitar 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 Rites of Spring to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All Sarah Menescal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Cell 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sixth Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brothers Johnson,
John Foxx,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jandek,
Shuggie Otis,
Motorama,
X-102,
The Angels of Light,
Skarface,
Lyres,
Los Fastidios,
Country Teasers,
Amazonics,
Harry Pussy,
Schoolly D,
Gong,
Ohio Players,
Prince Buster,
Ronnie Foster,
Lalo Schifrin,
Desert Stars,
Faraquet,
Kurtis Blow,
The Move,
Scrapy,
Eli Mardock,
Laurel Aitken,
Johnny Osbourne,
Adolescents,
Arab on Radar,
Susan Cadogan,
Eric Dolphy,
Sonic Youth,
Gang Starr,
Absolute Body Control,
Roxette,
Chrome,
Pussy Galore,
Unrelated Segments,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Zeros,
Agitation Free,
A Certain Ratio,
Swans,
Cal Tjader,
Brick,
Pagans,
The Shadows of Knight,
Moby Grape,
Khruangbin,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Yusef Lateef,
Severed Heads,
Vainqueur,
The Fall,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Black Moon,
Spoonie Gee,
Television Personalities, Television Personalities, Television Personalities, Television Personalities.
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.