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 Uganda 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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Bush Tetras to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wally Richardson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
Ossler,
Nils Olav,
Flipper,
Newcleus,
The Remains,
The Angels of Light,
John Cale,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Shuggie Otis,
the Human League,
Bauhaus,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Iggy Pop,
The Durutti Column,
The Gories,
Tres Demented,
Con Funk Shun,
Erykah Badu,
Joyce Sims,
Byron Stingily,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Gladiators,
Alison Limerick,
Arcadia,
Spandau Ballet,
Sixth Finger,
Barry Ungar,
Inner City,
Bobby Byrd,
New York Dolls,
Lakeside,
Lou Reed,
Pantytec,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Cowsills,
OOIOO,
Reuben Wilson,
Big Daddy Kane,
Hot Snakes,
Pulsallama,
Chris Corsano,
The Vogues,
Bang On A Can,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Gap Band,
Metal Thangz,
These Immortal Souls,
the Swans,
The Motions,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Misunderstood,
Fear,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Crispian St. Peters,
the Fania All-Stars,
Gil Scott Heron,
Kenny Larkin,
One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish.
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.