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 Germany and from Shanghai.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Dirtbombs to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All Crash Course in Science tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skaos record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerrie Biddell,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Zeros,
the Slits,
Morten Harket,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Inner City,
Jerry's Kids,
Robert Hood,
Fela Kuti,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Goldenarms,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Misunderstood,
the Swans,
Magma,
Television Personalities,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Monochrome Set,
Pylon,
Connie Case,
Barry Ungar,
Black Moon,
Amon Düül,
Spoonie Gee,
Motorama,
Faust,
Peter & Gordon,
Procol Harum,
The Saints,
Accadde A,
Sarah Menescal,
The Dirtbombs,
The Dead C,
Eric Dolphy,
Gregory Isaacs,
Erasure,
Basic Channel,
Piero Umiliani,
Rod Modell,
Todd Terry,
Roxy Music,
Gang Green,
Glenn Branca,
Graham Central Station,
E-Dancer,
Barclay James Harvest,
Steve Hackett,
Suburban Knight,
Sandy B,
Kayak,
Mo-Dettes,
Country Teasers,
Kerri Chandler,
Jeff Lynne,
Ronnie Foster,
Soft Machine,
Delta 5,
ABBA,
Public Enemy,
John Holt,
Derrick May,
Boogie Down Productions,
Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange.
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.