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 South Sudan and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 spring reverb 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the funk 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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All The Pop Group tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blancmange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glambeats Corp. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Finger,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Warren Ellis,
Suicide,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Scrapy,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Arab on Radar,
Funkadelic,
R.M.O.,
The Associates,
Freddie Wadling,
Wolf Eyes,
The Barracudas,
Lightning Bolt,
Grauzone,
Josef K,
Kerrie Biddell,
Patti Smith,
Donny Hathaway,
Warsaw,
The Pretty Things,
Peter and Kerry,
The Young Rascals,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
World's Most,
Black Sheep,
Steve Hackett,
New Order,
Joey Negro,
Rufus Thomas,
Lucky Dragons,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Jeff Mills,
The Fall,
Rod Modell,
Dead Boys,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Cybotron,
Yazoo,
The Last Poets,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Misunderstood,
Mark Hollis,
Groovy Waters,
Shuggie Otis,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Wally Richardson,
Swell Maps,
The Searchers,
kango's stein massive,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Glambeats Corp.,
Mr. Review,
Moss Icon,
Von Mondo,
Deepchord,
The Birthday Party,
John Cale,
Marvin Gaye,
Laurel Aitken,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.