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 Morocco and from Bremen.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Lou Reed 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 Busters to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Dawn Penn. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Hutcherson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Move record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Offenders,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
8 Eyed Spy,
Kevin Saunderson,
Grey Daturas,
Smog,
Circle Jerks,
AZ,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Eric Copeland,
Anthony Braxton,
The Monochrome Set,
The Buckinghams,
Ossler,
The New Christs,
Jacob Miller,
Crispy Ambulance,
Kayak,
Make Up,
Bob Dylan,
Glambeats Corp.,
Inner City,
Stetsasonic,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Litter,
The Evens,
Faust,
Kas Product,
Fugazi,
DJ Sneak,
Spoonie Gee,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Blancmange,
Magazine,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Saints,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Delta 5,
Barry Ungar,
The Fire Engines,
The Young Rascals,
Jacques Brel,
The Alarm Clocks,
Rhythm & Sound,
Scientists,
UT,
Charles Mingus,
Chrome,
The Angels of Light,
Heaven 17,
Morten Harket,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Das Ding,
Tubeway Army,
Symarip,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.