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 Brunei and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Manila.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Gun Club. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiopuhelimet 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
FM Einheit,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Hashim,
Lower 48,
KRS-One,
CMW,
Los Fastidios,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Pulsallama,
Marine Girls,
The Fugs,
H. Thieme,
Neil Young,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Lou Christie,
Ornette Coleman,
Minny Pops,
Half Japanese,
Little Man,
Angry Samoans,
Talk Talk,
Rekid,
Bronski Beat,
Mad Mike,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Easy Going,
The Motions,
Kerri Chandler,
James White and The Blacks,
The Evens,
Joey Negro,
The Sonics,
Television,
The Doors,
the Slits,
Deadbeat,
Boogie Down Productions,
Ken Boothe,
Unrelated Segments,
Shoche,
Popol Vuh,
Lucky Dragons,
Oblivians,
Suburban Knight,
Michelle Simonal,
Fear,
Slave,
Moby Grape,
Magazine,
Index,
Camberwell Now,
Altered Images,
The American Breed,
Graham Central Station,
The Litter,
Bob Dylan,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Joe Smooth,
The Buckinghams,
AZ,
Bauhaus,
Pole,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.