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 Sierra Leone and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 clarinet 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 Agent Orange to the funk 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 Motions. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every It's A Beautiful Day record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arab on Radar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anakelly,
Johnny Osbourne,
Arthur Verocai,
Mary Jane Girls,
L. Decosne,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Symarip,
Inner City,
Metal Thangz,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ash Ra Tempel,
New York Dolls,
Jeru the Damaja,
Underground Resistance,
Sam Rivers,
The New Christs,
Alison Limerick,
The Knickerbockers,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Robert Hood,
Davy DMX,
The Fall,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bobby Byrd,
Jeff Mills,
48th St. Collective,
Accadde A,
Joe Finger,
Fluxion,
Sparks,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Seeds,
Pantytec,
Camberwell Now,
The Shadows of Knight,
Gong,
Visage,
Theoretical Girls,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Gun Club,
Infiniti,
Banda Bassotti,
The American Breed,
F. McDonald,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Y Pants,
Mantronix,
X-101,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Black Dice,
Robert Wyatt,
The Fuzztones,
Gerry Rafferty,
Deakin,
Fat Boys,
Ken Boothe,
Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack.
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.