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 Qatar and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 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 Glambeats Corp. to the electroclash 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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Tres Demented tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ludus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Main Source,
Eve St. Jones,
The Five Americans,
Subhumans,
These Immortal Souls,
The Cowsills,
The J.B.'s,
Von Mondo,
Slave,
The Raincoats,
Fugazi,
Cybotron,
Crash Course in Science,
the Bar-Kays,
The Wake,
Minor Threat,
The Saints,
Dorothy Ashby,
Unrelated Segments,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gang Green,
The Residents,
Sight & Sound,
Bizarre Inc.,
Kevin Saunderson,
T. Rex,
The Last Poets,
The Vogues,
Grauzone,
Skaos,
Con Funk Shun,
Shoche,
Thompson Twins,
Michelle Simonal,
Icehouse,
Audionom,
June Days,
Max Romeo,
Technova,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ituana,
Wolf Eyes,
Nik Kershaw,
Ponytail,
Gong,
Juan Atkins,
Eric Copeland,
Pierre Henry,
Aswad,
Excepter,
the Normal,
Roy Ayers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Angry Samoans,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
U.S. Maple,
Babytalk,
Warsaw,
The Seeds,
Minny Pops,
Avey Tare,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft.
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.