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 Croatia and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Fuzztones to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 David Bowie. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dead Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Bananas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moss Icon,
Avey Tare,
The Cramps,
DJ Style,
Agent Orange,
Black Flag,
Wolf Eyes,
Radiopuhelimet,
Robert Görl,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Half Japanese,
Arcadia,
Nation of Ulysses,
Jeff Lynne,
Rod Modell,
the Slits,
The Black Dice,
Yazoo,
Kerri Chandler,
Joe Finger,
The Cowsills,
The Mummies,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Shoche,
Thee Headcoats,
Gang Green,
The Dirtbombs,
Stiv Bators,
Livin' Joy,
Cymande,
Fugazi,
Lower 48,
Sunsets and Hearts,
48th St. Collective,
Hashim,
Aural Exciters,
Main Source,
X-101,
Howard Jones,
The Stooges,
Minutemen,
Bob Dylan,
The Trojans,
Slave,
Derrick Morgan,
Marc Almond,
Dorothy Ashby,
CMW,
Ice-T,
Crime,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Severed Heads,
Gang of Four,
James White and The Blacks,
Eve St. Jones,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Chrome,
The Fuzztones,
Siglo XX,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Fear,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Idris Muhammad,
Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants.
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.