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 Vanuatu and from Madrid.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Taipei.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Smog to the electroclash 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 Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Drive Like Jehu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every MDC record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mad Mike record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Echospace,
Half Japanese,
The Happenings,
Arcadia,
Ice-T,
Scan 7,
X-101,
Harmonia,
Circle Jerks,
Roxette,
Pagans,
Sonic Youth,
Jacques Brel,
Fad Gadget,
The Music Machine,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Parry Music,
Crispy Ambulance,
Livin' Joy,
Jeff Mills,
The Toasters,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Youth Brigade,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Porter Ricks,
The Angels of Light,
Pantaleimon,
Delta 5,
Godley & Creme,
Audionom,
Sam Rivers,
Accadde A,
John Coltrane,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Janne Schatter,
Nils Olav,
The Barracudas,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Skriet,
Robert Hood,
Throbbing Gristle,
Dawn Penn,
Niagra,
Moss Icon,
The Neon Judgement,
Minutemen,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Gang of Four,
Shuggie Otis,
Danielle Patucci,
Glenn Branca,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Icehouse,
The Last Poets,
Model 500,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Moody Blues,
Traffic Nightmare,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.