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 Czech Republic and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Pere Ubu to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Junior Murvin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bronski Beat,
Con Funk Shun,
8 Eyed Spy,
Grandmaster Flash,
Monolake,
Be Bop Deluxe,
John Foxx,
Blossom Toes,
Warsaw,
Jacob Miller,
James White and The Blacks,
The Searchers,
Neu!,
Little Man,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Doobie Brothers,
Supertramp,
Porter Ricks,
Mr. Review,
The Fuzztones,
Minnie Riperton,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Funkadelic,
Zero Boys,
Crooked Eye,
Scan 7,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sound Behaviour,
Franke,
Khruangbin,
Henry Cow,
Wolf Eyes,
Eric Copeland,
Gang Green,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
T. Rex,
Johnny Osbourne,
Moby Grape,
Robert Görl,
K-Klass,
Babytalk,
Black Moon,
The Velvet Underground,
Unrelated Segments,
Inner City,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sandy B,
R.M.O.,
The Golliwogs,
Urselle,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Evens,
The Pop Group,
CMW,
Tom Boy,
Joe Finger,
China Crisis,
Radio Birdman,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Jesus and Mary Chain.
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.