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 Denmark and from Madrid.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Swans to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Supertramp. All the underground hits.
All Basic Channel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick Morgan 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
Crime,
The Remains,
The Detroit Cobras,
Rufus Thomas,
Little Man,
The Busters,
Fugazi,
Joe Smooth,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Fortunes,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Pulsallama,
Pet Shop Boys,
Liliput,
Laurel Aitken,
Joy Division,
Subhumans,
Ultra Naté,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Grauzone,
Duran Duran,
Arthur Verocai,
Curtis Mayfield,
Country Teasers,
Das Ding,
Infiniti,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Y Pants,
Peter & Gordon,
Robert Hood,
Pussy Galore,
Brothers Johnson,
Symarip,
Dual Sessions,
Panda Bear,
Scion,
Minutemen,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Maurizio,
Lalann,
Neil Young,
Mr. Review,
Interpol,
Unwound,
Ituana,
Boredoms,
Pere Ubu,
China Crisis,
Outsiders,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bobby Sherman,
Television,
Erasure,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
CMW,
the Normal,
Rites of Spring,
Bobby Womack,
Faraquet,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.