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 Cameroon and from Winnipeg.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Tom Boy to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Joensuu 1685. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Al Stewart record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Leaves record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Cybotron,
Thompson Twins,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Simply Red,
Harry Pussy,
Radiohead,
The Cosmic Jokers,
the Slits,
Blossom Toes,
Matthew Bourne,
Tears for Fears,
Roxette,
Peter and Kerry,
Terrestrial Tones,
Young Marble Giants,
Royal Trux,
Arab on Radar,
Andrew Hill,
Nils Olav,
Kurtis Blow,
Shuggie Otis,
Banda Bassotti,
The Remains,
Dennis Brown,
Throbbing Gristle,
Arthur Verocai,
Ronnie Foster,
Audionom,
The Last Poets,
The Five Americans,
Robert Hood,
Das Ding,
Outsiders,
Von Mondo,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Saints,
The Stooges,
Shoche,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Wings,
Panda Bear,
Gang of Four,
The Young Rascals,
K-Klass,
Duran Duran,
Slick Rick,
The Fugs,
Lower 48,
Tropical Tobacco,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lightning Bolt,
Nico,
Lou Reed,
Boredoms,
Jerry's Kids,
Scientists,
Big Daddy Kane,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.