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 Thailand and from Delhi.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 linndrum 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 Lou Reed & John Cale to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Martian. All the underground hits.
All Patti Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Clear Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Derrick Morgan,
Lou Christie,
Delta 5,
Bill Wells,
Glambeats Corp.,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bobby Sherman,
Skriet,
Danielle Patucci,
Barclay James Harvest,
Fugazi,
Cymande,
Simply Red,
Joy Division,
Ornette Coleman,
Smog,
Brand Nubian,
Von Mondo,
The Fire Engines,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Niagra,
Pantaleimon,
Lower 48,
Aswad,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Real Kids,
the Sonics,
Eric Copeland,
Scion,
Kaleidoscope,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Hasil Adkins,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Evens,
Bush Tetras,
The Beau Brummels,
Gastr Del Sol,
Moebius,
Rites of Spring,
Neil Young,
Fatback Band,
New Age Steppers,
Robert Görl,
Los Fastidios,
AZ,
Warren Ellis,
Grey Daturas,
Tres Demented,
Erasure,
ABBA,
Roxette,
Minnie Riperton,
the Soft Cell,
The Gories,
Magazine,
Rapeman,
Jeff Lynne,
The Slackers,
Gregory Isaacs,
Scan 7, Scan 7, Scan 7, Scan 7.
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.