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 Namibia and from Lagos.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
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 Arthur Verocai to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chrome record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suburban Knight record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cameo,
Magma,
X-Ray Spex,
the Germs,
The Gories,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Judy Mowatt,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Electric Prunes,
The Vogues,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Johnny Clarke,
Soft Cell,
John Coltrane,
The J.B.'s,
E-Dancer,
Visage,
David Bowie,
Alphaville,
Gang Starr,
X-102,
Spandau Ballet,
T. Rex,
Severed Heads,
Talk Talk,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Mars,
The Music Machine,
The Moleskins,
Sister Nancy,
The Smiths,
Faust,
Procol Harum,
Minnie Riperton,
The Neon Judgement,
Yellowson,
The Searchers,
Hashim,
Maurizio,
Eden Ahbez,
The Fugs,
The Shadows of Knight,
Underground Resistance,
Aloha Tigers,
Symarip,
Aural Exciters,
Spoonie Gee,
Juan Atkins,
Frankie Knuckles,
Schoolly D,
Sun City Girls,
The Black Dice,
Scott Walker,
Scan 7,
Can,
Gastr Del Sol,
Warren Ellis,
Gang Gang Dance,
Peter and Kerry,
Swell Maps,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Roxy Music,
Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi.
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.