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 Indonesia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Underground Resistance to the crunk 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 Mo-Dettes. All the underground hits.
All Susan Cadogan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Procol Harum 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Supertramp,
Pantaleimon,
The Martian,
The Angels of Light,
Jawbox,
Kas Product,
Freddie Wadling,
Sugar Minott,
Camouflage,
MC5,
Hot Snakes,
Simply Red,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Star Department,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Donald Byrd,
Lou Christie,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
E-Dancer,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
cv313,
Panda Bear,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Knickerbockers,
Los Fastidios,
Tomorrow,
Quadrant,
Das Ding,
The Slackers,
The Residents,
JFA,
LL Cool J,
The Slits,
Massinfluence,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Section 25,
8 Eyed Spy,
the Fania All-Stars,
John Coltrane,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lightning Bolt,
Black Bananas,
Terry Callier,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Fuzztones,
Magazine,
Subhumans,
Moss Icon,
The Leaves,
kango's stein massive,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Alton Ellis,
Hoover,
The New Christs,
Bobby Womack,
Japan,
Mandrill,
Big Daddy Kane,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron.
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.