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 Ghana and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Spokane.
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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Brick to the dance 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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All The Black Dice tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Little Man,
the Bar-Kays,
Letta Mbulu,
Tropical Tobacco,
Trumans Water,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Bill Wells,
Stetsasonic,
Young Marble Giants,
Drexciya,
JFA,
The Techniques,
Malaria!,
X-101,
The Searchers,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Massinfluence,
The Blues Magoos,
Amazonics,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Moby Grape,
Andrew Hill,
Patti Smith,
Black Flag,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
James White and The Blacks,
The Happenings,
Excepter,
Colin Newman,
Sandy B,
the Swans,
Shoche,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Birthday Party,
Mantronix,
Pere Ubu,
Nik Kershaw,
Crime,
Albert Ayler,
Dawn Penn,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Dead Boys,
Simply Red,
Peter and Kerry,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Chris & Cosey,
Livin' Joy,
Ronnie Foster,
Scientists,
Reuben Wilson,
Tomorrow,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
the Human League,
The Neon Judgement,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Stereo Dub,
The Buckinghams,
Johnny Osbourne,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
FM Einheit,
Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon.
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.