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 Turkey and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Happenings to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All The Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mo-Dettes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glenn Branca,
Rekid,
Wolf Eyes,
Barclay James Harvest,
Pharoah Sanders,
Black Pus,
Dual Sessions,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
UT,
The Sonics,
Black Moon,
Steve Hackett,
Mr. Review,
Kool Moe Dee,
T.S.O.L.,
Cameo,
Subhumans,
The Dirtbombs,
The Doors,
Darondo,
Stetsasonic,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Techniques,
the Human League,
OOIOO,
Shoche,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Raincoats,
Camberwell Now,
Max Romeo,
Monolake,
In Retrospect,
A Certain Ratio,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Minny Pops,
Average White Band,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Pretty Things,
Stereo Dub,
The Dead C,
Unwound,
Bluetip,
T. Rex,
Kenny Larkin,
Scrapy,
Index,
Young Marble Giants,
Nas,
Spoonie Gee,
The Gun Club,
Rakim,
Girls At Our Best!,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Motions,
Bill Wells,
Fela Kuti,
Hot Snakes,
Todd Rundgren,
Byron Stingily,
Sun City Girls,
Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer.
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.