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 Liberia and from Mumbai.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 F. McDonald to the rock 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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Sonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bush Tetras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
New Age Steppers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Black Bananas,
Reuben Wilson,
Mantronix,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Marc Almond,
Slick Rick,
Prince Buster,
Rakim,
The Last Poets,
Q65,
Agitation Free,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Moebius,
Tubeway Army,
The Trojans,
the Association,
Flash Fearless,
Joensuu 1685,
Stetsasonic,
Spandau Ballet,
Faust,
The Cowsills,
Scratch Acid,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Unrelated Segments,
Byron Stingily,
FM Einheit,
Thee Headcoats,
Urselle,
The Cure,
Bob Dylan,
Make Up,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Aaron Thompson,
Man Eating Sloth,
Terry Callier,
Girls At Our Best!,
Monolake,
Ronnie Foster,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Tears for Fears,
David Bowie,
Neu!,
F. McDonald,
Marine Girls,
The American Breed,
The Monks,
Minny Pops,
Andrew Hill,
Flipper,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Black Sheep,
John Cale,
The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs.
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.