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 Mozambique and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Susan Cadogan to the grunge 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 American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Mandrill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eli Mardock 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cameo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Byron Stingily,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Hoover,
June Days,
Alison Limerick,
Avey Tare,
Darondo,
Amon Düül II,
Charles Mingus,
The Sonics,
Mary Jane Girls,
Fugazi,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Y Pants,
Aloha Tigers,
The Grass Roots,
Sex Pistols,
Severed Heads,
The Slackers,
Intrusion,
Howard Jones,
The Vogues,
June of 44,
Black Bananas,
B.T. Express,
Nas,
Wally Richardson,
Godley & Creme,
Malaria!,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Real Kids,
DJ Sneak,
Sunsets and Hearts,
the Soft Cell,
Eric Copeland,
Radio Birdman,
Ralphi Rosario,
Warsaw,
Eurythmics,
Yellowson,
Arcadia,
LL Cool J,
Man Eating Sloth,
Model 500,
U.S. Maple,
Metal Thangz,
The Gap Band,
Panda Bear,
The Zeros,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Kerrie Biddell,
Marcia Griffiths,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Count Five,
Siglo XX,
Neu!,
Faust,
Buzzcocks,
Theoretical Girls,
Connie Case,
The Knickerbockers,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Fluxion,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.