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 Ukraine and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 chamberlin 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 The Misunderstood to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharoah Sanders 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Iggy Pop record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Barbara Tucker,
Mission of Burma,
Pylon,
Underground Resistance,
Can,
Au Pairs,
The Last Poets,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Davy DMX,
Negative Approach,
Byron Stingily,
Aswad,
Ken Boothe,
Intrusion,
Eddi Front,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Colin Newman,
Ossler,
Alice Coltrane,
Jesper Dahlback,
Angry Samoans,
Bauhaus,
Drexciya,
The Golliwogs,
the Soft Cell,
Sun Ra,
Subhumans,
Q65,
Connie Case,
Danielle Patucci,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Adolescents,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Raincoats,
Prince Buster,
Brand Nubian,
Babytalk,
Kerri Chandler,
Porter Ricks,
Lou Reed,
Eve St. Jones,
T. Rex,
Audionom,
D'Angelo,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
B.T. Express,
Accadde A,
Junior Murvin,
Mary Jane Girls,
New Order,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
R.M.O.,
Tomorrow,
Average White Band,
Toni Rubio,
The Selecter,
The Doobie Brothers,
Con Funk Shun,
Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments.
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.