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 Tuvalu and from Cairo.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Sao Paulo.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Lonnie Liston Smith to the punk 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 The Count Five. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ornette Coleman,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Dennis Brown,
Brick,
Babytalk,
Ash Ra Tempel,
This Heat,
Crash Course in Science,
Das Ding,
Unrelated Segments,
Wally Richardson,
Bush Tetras,
Theoretical Girls,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
PIL,
La Düsseldorf,
Jandek,
Patti Smith,
Youth Brigade,
The Residents,
Amazonics,
K-Klass,
Peter and Kerry,
The Motions,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Jeff Lynne,
The Zeros,
Accadde A,
The Leaves,
Sun City Girls,
John Foxx,
New Age Steppers,
The Divine Comedy,
The Remains,
Bang On A Can,
Kurtis Blow,
The Beau Brummels,
Sparks,
Oneida,
Danielle Patucci,
Dual Sessions,
Monks,
Tropical Tobacco,
Howard Jones,
48th St. Collective,
Archie Shepp,
Easy Going,
The Monks,
Magazine,
Warren Ellis,
Tim Buckley,
Stockholm Monsters,
Judy Mowatt,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Marshall Jefferson,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Flipper,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.