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 Netherlands and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Dead C to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Technova. All the underground hits.
All Eddi Front tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Richard Hell and the Voidoids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Stooges,
World's Most,
Symarip,
The Neon Judgement,
Radiopuhelimet,
Ralphi Rosario,
Soft Cell,
Aural Exciters,
Marshall Jefferson,
Con Funk Shun,
Average White Band,
The Slackers,
Banda Bassotti,
Nick Fraelich,
Fela Kuti,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Panda Bear,
The Real Kids,
Barry Ungar,
Zero Boys,
Electric Prunes,
The Sonics,
Faust,
Spandau Ballet,
Marvin Gaye,
Sun City Girls,
Todd Terry,
Susan Cadogan,
Curtis Mayfield,
Liliput,
Aswad,
Matthew Halsall,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Khruangbin,
Young Marble Giants,
Livin' Joy,
Sparks,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Glambeats Corp.,
Simply Red,
Inner City,
The Dirtbombs,
Tears for Fears,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Pylon,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Barrington Levy,
Ash Ra Tempel,
L. Decosne,
The Human League,
The Martian,
Sugar Minott,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Henry Cow,
Shoche,
the Swans,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Star Department,
The Techniques,
Icehouse,
The Names,
Suicide,
Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks.
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.