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 Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 spring reverb 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 Terry Callier to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Massinfluence tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Neon Judgement 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scrapy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eve St. Jones,
Stiv Bators,
Derrick Morgan,
Joensuu 1685,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Index,
Stetsasonic,
Wings,
Dawn Penn,
Suicide,
Nick Fraelich,
Drive Like Jehu,
Saccharine Trust,
The Busters,
Bill Near,
Harry Pussy,
The Moody Blues,
Prince Buster,
Ice-T,
Model 500,
Nirvana,
The Monks,
Hoover,
Brick,
Visage,
Flamin' Groovies,
Johnny Osbourne,
DJ Style,
Maleditus Sound,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Fortunes,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
ABBA,
Marmalade,
Surgeon,
The Blues Magoos,
Curtis Mayfield,
Barclay James Harvest,
EPMD,
The J.B.'s,
Joe Finger,
Jerry's Kids,
The Raincoats,
Ludus,
Radio Birdman,
Angry Samoans,
The Move,
The Neon Judgement,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Black Sheep,
Scan 7,
Howard Jones,
Agitation Free,
Spoonie Gee,
Ossler,
Archie Shepp,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Five Americans,
Wolf Eyes,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Glambeats Corp.,
Warren Ellis,
Flipper,
Magma, Magma, Magma, Magma.
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.