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 Algeria and from Edmonton.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Minor Threat to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Ohio Players. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vainqueur,
The Mummies,
Shoche,
The Star Department,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Cal Tjader,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Residents,
Dave Gahan,
Gabor Szabo,
Anthony Braxton,
John Cale,
the Association,
ABBA,
Banda Bassotti,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Blancmange,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Drive Like Jehu,
Scan 7,
F. McDonald,
Lightning Bolt,
Black Flag,
Theoretical Girls,
The Alarm Clocks,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Ossler,
Mary Jane Girls,
Procol Harum,
John Lydon,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Unwound,
Sandy B,
Duran Duran,
The Music Machine,
Gregory Isaacs,
Iggy Pop,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Toni Rubio,
Blossom Toes,
Soft Machine,
Agitation Free,
Todd Rundgren,
The Fugs,
Circle Jerks,
Technova,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Harpers Bizarre,
Trumans Water,
Gang of Four,
Basic Channel,
Deadbeat,
Hot Snakes,
John Holt,
Man Eating Sloth,
Mars,
Don Cherry,
June of 44,
Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers.
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.