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 Uruguay and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Sexual Harrassment to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Tubeway Army. All the underground hits.
All Don Cherry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick May record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Notorious Big And Bone Thugs 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?
Oneida,
Pulsallama,
Soul II Soul,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Durutti Column,
Black Flag,
The Neon Judgement,
Alphaville,
John Holt,
June of 44,
the Bar-Kays,
Zero Boys,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Agent Orange,
The Sonics,
the Swans,
Ice-T,
Gabor Szabo,
Liliput,
Soft Cell,
Sarah Menescal,
Saccharine Trust,
The Fire Engines,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Matthew Halsall,
Lou Christie,
This Heat,
The Birthday Party,
John Coltrane,
Tommy Roe,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Dave Clark Five,
Stiv Bators,
Barclay James Harvest,
JFA,
Radiohead,
The Modern Lovers,
The Count Five,
Pylon,
New York Dolls,
Bill Near,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Names,
Pet Shop Boys,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Mandrill,
Negative Approach,
Hasil Adkins,
The Cure,
The Blackbyrds,
X-101,
Neu!,
Radio Birdman,
Patti Smith,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sonic Youth,
Surgeon,
Connie Case,
Black Sheep,
Howard Jones,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio.
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.