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 Sweden and from Columbus.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the guitar 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 The Real Kids to the techno 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 Outsiders. All the underground hits.
All T.S.O.L. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erykah Badu 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Unwound,
Crime,
Quando Quango,
Easy Going,
The Busters,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Cybotron,
DJ Sneak,
Marvin Gaye,
The Gap Band,
Simply Red,
Kaleidoscope,
Magazine,
Dual Sessions,
The Beau Brummels,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Skatalites,
Bobby Hutcherson,
John Foxx,
Sun Ra,
Big Daddy Kane,
Archie Shepp,
The Star Department,
Young Marble Giants,
Duran Duran,
Make Up,
The Techniques,
Avey Tare,
Neil Young,
Minnie Riperton,
London Community Gospel Choir,
X-Ray Spex,
Warren Ellis,
Sex Pistols,
Talk Talk,
New York Dolls,
Gang Starr,
Radio Birdman,
Grey Daturas,
Robert Wyatt,
Sexual Harrassment,
Buzzcocks,
X-101,
Guru Guru,
Dead Boys,
Blossom Toes,
Barry Ungar,
China Crisis,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bill Wells,
Skarface,
Bob Dylan,
Man Eating Sloth,
Organ,
Excepter,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Harry Pussy,
Saccharine Trust,
Dawn Penn,
The Dead C,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers.
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.