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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Real Kids to the disco 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 H. Thieme. All the underground hits.
All One Last Wish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Qualms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Interpol,
U.S. Maple,
K-Klass,
Franke,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Evens,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Wally Richardson,
Morten Harket,
Tres Demented,
Kevin Saunderson,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Crispian St. Peters,
John Foxx,
Funky Four + One,
The Slackers,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Rufus Thomas,
Fad Gadget,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Yaz,
Sugar Minott,
Hot Snakes,
Don Cherry,
Hardrive,
Average White Band,
10cc,
Malaria!,
Agitation Free,
Blossom Toes,
Magazine,
Lebanon Hanover,
Eddi Front,
The Sound,
X-101,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Johnny Clarke,
Make Up,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Smoke,
Audionom,
Ronan,
The Martian,
Second Layer,
Flamin' Groovies,
Pole,
Niagra,
Pylon,
Vainqueur,
World's Most,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Juan Atkins,
Marc Almond,
Oneida,
Colin Newman,
Todd Rundgren,
Black Pus,
Letta Mbulu,
Lindisfarne,
The Five Americans,
Derrick Morgan,
Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T.
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.