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 New Zealand and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Guru Guru to the funk 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 Supertramp. All the underground hits.
All Crispy Ambulance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June Days 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
The Gladiators,
Make Up,
Ice-T,
Anakelly,
David Bowie,
Zapp,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Excepter,
Morten Harket,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Janne Schatter,
Kayak,
Barrington Levy,
June of 44,
Funkadelic,
Minutemen,
Radio Birdman,
Crooked Eye,
Cheater Slicks,
Donny Hathaway,
Skaos,
Byron Stingily,
DNA,
The Birthday Party,
Skarface,
Gil Scott Heron,
PIL,
Soft Cell,
New Order,
Tropical Tobacco,
Pole,
Mars,
John Holt,
Groovy Waters,
Radiopuhelimet,
Silicon Teens,
The Fire Engines,
Laurel Aitken,
The Barracudas,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Vogues,
Shoche,
Panda Bear,
The Litter,
Anthony Braxton,
The Divine Comedy,
Minor Threat,
Connie Case,
Altered Images,
Joyce Sims,
Marine Girls,
Pagans,
Smog,
Marmalade,
Johnny Clarke,
Marshall Jefferson,
Deakin,
Agitation Free,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Music Machine,
Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon.
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.