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 China and from Taipei.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 The Dead C to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Anthony Braxton. All the underground hits.
All Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rapeman 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fortunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Make Up,
Lakeside,
John Foxx,
The Knickerbockers,
Can,
Stockholm Monsters,
Minny Pops,
Ronan,
Dark Day,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Durutti Column,
Aural Exciters,
the Fania All-Stars,
Surgeon,
Index,
Vladislav Delay,
Fugazi,
Byron Stingily,
Mr. Review,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Graham Central Station,
Boredoms,
Nils Olav,
Chris Corsano,
cv313,
The Count Five,
Soft Cell,
Alice Coltrane,
Soul Sonic Force,
This Heat,
Echospace,
Junior Murvin,
Average White Band,
Trumans Water,
Buzzcocks,
Grandmaster Flash,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Public Enemy,
The Litter,
Harry Pussy,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Mad Mike,
Boogie Down Productions,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
ABC,
Patti Smith,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Crash Course in Science,
Wasted Youth,
Erasure,
Kaleidoscope,
Barry Ungar,
The Angels of Light,
Hasil Adkins,
Cameo,
Gang of Four,
The Cure,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.