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 Solomon Islands and from Manila.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Robert Palmer 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 Crime to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Niagra. All the underground hits.
All Joensuu 1685 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tres Demented record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Mummies,
The Sound,
Deadbeat,
48th St. Collective,
Bobby Womack,
Lee Hazlewood,
Make Up,
Surgeon,
The Neon Judgement,
The Fire Engines,
Quadrant,
Juan Atkins,
Kenny Larkin,
Pussy Galore,
Patti Smith,
The Five Americans,
Swans,
Depeche Mode,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Silicon Teens,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Velvet Underground,
Duran Duran,
The Saints,
Slave,
Amazonics,
Can,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Pharoah Sanders,
Deakin,
Grey Daturas,
Banda Bassotti,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Peter and Kerry,
The Durutti Column,
Derrick Morgan,
The Last Poets,
Boogie Down Productions,
Monks,
Flash Fearless,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Pet Shop Boys,
Supertramp,
Harmonia,
Black Flag,
cv313,
Outsiders,
Magma,
Junior Murvin,
The Gun Club,
The Doobie Brothers,
Tommy Roe,
Tom Boy,
Scion,
Fear,
Y Pants,
Scrapy,
Sun City Girls,
Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes.
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.