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 Liechtenstein and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 rhodes 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 Flamin' Groovies to the rock 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 Kayak. All the underground hits.
All Gong tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare 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 Beau Brummels,
Rufus Thomas,
Mary Jane Girls,
Harry Pussy,
Scott Walker,
Severed Heads,
The Grass Roots,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Make Up,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Reagan Youth,
Buzzcocks,
Josef K,
kango's stein massive,
Yellowson,
Siglo XX,
Fear,
Q and Not U,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Mars,
Delon & Dalcan,
Barry Ungar,
Sixth Finger,
Erasure,
Sun Ra,
Sonny Sharrock,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Zero Boys,
The Busters,
David Axelrod,
John Holt,
The Slackers,
The Martian,
Infiniti,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
48th St. Collective,
China Crisis,
Toni Rubio,
The Moody Blues,
Arcadia,
The Raincoats,
Morten Harket,
Model 500,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Marcia Griffiths,
Soul II Soul,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Jacques Brel,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Monks,
James Chance & The Contortions,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lower 48,
Blake Baxter,
Throbbing Gristle,
Echospace, Echospace, Echospace, Echospace.
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.