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 Turkmenistan and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Suicide to the techno 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 Scratch Acid. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Stooges record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Niagra,
FM Einheit,
Kerrie Biddell,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Nation of Ulysses,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Cecil Taylor,
AZ,
The Doors,
Spandau Ballet,
Das Ding,
The Misunderstood,
Funkadelic,
Slick Rick,
Anthony Braxton,
Jesper Dahlback,
Janne Schatter,
Dorothy Ashby,
Essential Logic,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Surgeon,
Supertramp,
Pantytec,
The Slackers,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Leaves,
Gang Starr,
Brothers Johnson,
Lightning Bolt,
The Red Krayola,
Joy Division,
Eden Ahbez,
Electric Prunes,
The Fortunes,
Dawn Penn,
Camouflage,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Byron Stingily,
Roxette,
Pantaleimon,
Tommy Roe,
The Litter,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Q and Not U,
Symarip,
Andrew Hill,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Busters,
Connie Case,
Marc Almond,
Mars,
Rapeman,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Morten Harket,
Moby Grape,
Dual Sessions,
the Bar-Kays,
Simply Red,
The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots.
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.