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 Chad and from Portland.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Smoke to the dance 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 Marc Almond. All the underground hits.
All Isaac Hayes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radio Birdman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Whodini,
Suburban Knight,
48th St. Collective,
Dead Boys,
Tom Boy,
World's Most,
Lou Christie,
Subhumans,
Rapeman,
Severed Heads,
The Misunderstood,
Circle Jerks,
Morten Harket,
Nico,
Rakim,
The United States of America,
Simply Red,
The Cowsills,
Bill Wells,
Aloha Tigers,
Agitation Free,
Rufus Thomas,
Barry Ungar,
Angry Samoans,
Depeche Mode,
Eric Dolphy,
Stockholm Monsters,
Rosa Yemen,
Groovy Waters,
Grandmaster Flash,
Clear Light,
Franke,
John Holt,
The Invisible,
Derrick May,
The Electric Prunes,
Judy Mowatt,
Quando Quango,
Joe Smooth,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Blancmange,
Spandau Ballet,
The Count Five,
Magazine,
FM Einheit,
Chris Corsano,
Desert Stars,
The Vogues,
Kevin Saunderson,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Boredoms,
Carl Craig,
Mo-Dettes,
The Remains,
Gabor Szabo,
The Stooges,
Curtis Mayfield,
Pantytec,
Banda Bassotti,
Funkadelic,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.