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 Tuvalu and from Bologna.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Johannesburg.
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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Thee Headcoats to the funk 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 The Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siglo XX record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a spring reverb 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 chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stockholm Monsters,
Soft Machine,
Jimmy McGriff,
In Retrospect,
Youth Brigade,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Metal Thangz,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lou Christie,
Skaos,
Harry Pussy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Dorothy Ashby,
Chris Corsano,
Bootsy Collins,
Rapeman,
Shoche,
Robert Görl,
Aural Exciters,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Groovy Waters,
The Standells,
Loose Ends,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Erasure,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Tommy Roe,
R.M.O.,
The Happenings,
Rekid,
New York Dolls,
The Fall,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ponytail,
Gang Gang Dance,
Outsiders,
Mars,
Aswad,
Kerrie Biddell,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Traffic Nightmare,
Byron Stingily,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Althea and Donna,
Joe Finger,
Soul II Soul,
Yusef Lateef,
Warren Ellis,
Marine Girls,
Scion,
Audionom,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Nico,
the Normal,
Morten Harket,
Spandau Ballet,
Pantaleimon,
Reagan Youth,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Oblivians,
Sparks,
The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers.
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.