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 Slovakia and from Tokyo.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Seeds to the punk 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 Marc Almond. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rites of Spring 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pet Shop Boys,
Barrington Levy,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lebanon Hanover,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Smog,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Cecil Taylor,
Angry Samoans,
The Pop Group,
X-Ray Spex,
Oblivians,
Boredoms,
Sun Ra,
the Soft Cell,
Pylon,
Curtis Mayfield,
Jandek,
Maleditus Sound,
Arcadia,
Hot Snakes,
Saccharine Trust,
Harry Pussy,
Electric Prunes,
Outsiders,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sex Pistols,
Warren Ellis,
New Order,
48th St. Collective,
Masters at Work,
The Standells,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Cameo,
The Last Poets,
Yazoo,
Harpers Bizarre,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Porter Ricks,
Alton Ellis,
Guru Guru,
Negative Approach,
The Saints,
Derrick Morgan,
The Real Kids,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
EPMD,
Heaven 17,
Lyres,
Carl Craig,
Fat Boys,
Blancmange,
La Düsseldorf,
Anakelly,
F. McDonald,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ice-T,
Ossler,
Bobby Byrd,
Section 25,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.