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 Fiji and from Accra.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Ralphi Rosario to the electroclash 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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All Wally Richardson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Colin Newman 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ash Ra Tempel,
R.M.O.,
X-Ray Spex,
Rufus Thomas,
Chrome,
Section 25,
Traffic Nightmare,
Grey Daturas,
Albert Ayler,
Gichy Dan,
Josef K,
T. Rex,
Ronan,
Rites of Spring,
Jerry's Kids,
Cheater Slicks,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Mummies,
Maleditus Sound,
Mantronix,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Harry Pussy,
The Buckinghams,
Massinfluence,
John Lydon,
Kayak,
Roger Hodgson,
Harpers Bizarre,
Depeche Mode,
Rapeman,
Black Moon,
Suicide,
Eric Dolphy,
The Smoke,
Ituana,
Stereo Dub,
Cameo,
Urselle,
The Knickerbockers,
the Sonics,
The Vogues,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
the Fania All-Stars,
Eurythmics,
Gang Gang Dance,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Al Stewart,
The Young Rascals,
The Seeds,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Joensuu 1685,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Jacob Miller,
Minnie Riperton,
Bob Dylan,
John Cale,
Anthony Braxton,
The Moody Blues,
Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai.
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.