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 Philippines and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Nile Rodgers 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 John Cale to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Music Machine. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scientists 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Silicon Teens record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Essential Logic,
Pussy Galore,
Jeff Mills,
Mars,
Darondo,
Y Pants,
Oneida,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sight & Sound,
Fad Gadget,
48th St. Collective,
ABC,
Crispy Ambulance,
Loose Ends,
Metal Thangz,
The Moody Blues,
Panda Bear,
Q65,
Marshall Jefferson,
Charles Mingus,
Eve St. Jones,
The Fire Engines,
Swell Maps,
Ronnie Foster,
the Slits,
Matthew Bourne,
Bauhaus,
Spoonie Gee,
Cal Tjader,
The Doobie Brothers,
Chrome,
Bobby Womack,
Gang of Four,
Adolescents,
FM Einheit,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Boredoms,
The Searchers,
Drive Like Jehu,
Tim Buckley,
Hasil Adkins,
Bizarre Inc.,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Gories,
The Techniques,
Nas,
Section 25,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Rosa Yemen,
X-101,
Wings,
Barry Ungar,
Half Japanese,
The Alarm Clocks,
Young Marble Giants,
The Music Machine,
F. McDonald,
New Order,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bobby Byrd,
The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party.
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.