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 Mozambique and from Hong Kong.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Glambeats Corp. to the punk 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 Quando Quango. All the underground hits.
All Khruangbin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Audionom 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Skatalites record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Machine,
Oblivians,
The Star Department,
Curtis Mayfield,
Joensuu 1685,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Rosa Yemen,
Flipper,
Harry Pussy,
The Angels of Light,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Aural Exciters,
Rufus Thomas,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Patti Smith,
Tom Boy,
ABBA,
The Misunderstood,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Skriet,
Boogie Down Productions,
Boz Scaggs,
Fatback Band,
The Music Machine,
Todd Terry,
Soul II Soul,
The Buckinghams,
Jesper Dahlback,
Depeche Mode,
Eric Dolphy,
Matthew Bourne,
Black Pus,
Idris Muhammad,
the Bar-Kays,
Peter & Gordon,
The Mojo Men,
Gastr Del Sol,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Jeff Mills,
Spoonie Gee,
Drexciya,
Rakim,
Franke,
Joey Negro,
Von Mondo,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Faust,
Fat Boys,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Blackbyrds,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Swans,
Saccharine Trust,
Prince Buster,
Nils Olav,
Ornette Coleman,
Eve St. Jones,
Goldenarms,
Y Pants,
Amon Düül,
FM Einheit,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.