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 Equatorial Guinea and from New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Star Department to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Deepchord. All the underground hits.
All MDC tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
ABC,
The Names,
Lindisfarne,
10cc,
Groovy Waters,
JFA,
B.T. Express,
Sixth Finger,
The Moleskins,
Nas,
Black Bananas,
Shuggie Otis,
Thompson Twins,
Shoche,
Hasil Adkins,
Nik Kershaw,
PIL,
Amazonics,
Rod Modell,
Byron Stingily,
Slick Rick,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Birthday Party,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Charles Mingus,
The Associates,
Anthony Braxton,
Joensuu 1685,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Unrelated Segments,
Gabor Szabo,
Roxy Music,
Inner City,
Roxette,
Das Ding,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Supertramp,
Cybotron,
Roger Hodgson,
Tomorrow,
Eddi Front,
Heaven 17,
Avey Tare,
The Motions,
Jacob Miller,
Bang On A Can,
Glenn Branca,
Barclay James Harvest,
Second Layer,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Minor Threat,
The Vogues,
Fad Gadget,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Minnie Riperton,
The Zeros,
Kayak,
Arcadia,
Jandek, Jandek, Jandek, Jandek.
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.