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 Somalia and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Man Eating Sloth to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Shuggie Otis. All the underground hits.
All The Golliwogs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fear 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eli Mardock,
Fear,
Cheater Slicks,
Ralphi Rosario,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Eve St. Jones,
Dave Gahan,
Can,
Derrick Morgan,
Gong,
Black Pus,
Davy DMX,
The Sound,
Mo-Dettes,
Max Romeo,
Jeff Mills,
CMW,
Livin' Joy,
Parry Music,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Depeche Mode,
Minny Pops,
Au Pairs,
Jeff Lynne,
Das Ding,
Trumans Water,
Urselle,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Slackers,
Absolute Body Control,
Yaz,
The Zeros,
Aural Exciters,
The Fuzztones,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Youth Brigade,
Wire,
Suicide,
Anakelly,
Ituana,
Anthony Braxton,
Alice Coltrane,
Joey Negro,
The Wake,
Eden Ahbez,
Deadbeat,
Gastr Del Sol,
the Germs,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Pulsallama,
The Grass Roots,
Ultra Naté,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Barracudas,
Shoche,
The Busters,
Iggy Pop,
DNA,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Vogues,
Swell Maps,
Joy Division,
Arcadia,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.