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 Australia and from Johannesburg.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the 808 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 Terrestrial Tones to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Idris Muhammad. All the underground hits.
All Gerry Rafferty tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drexciya record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
Hasil Adkins,
Crooked Eye,
Fugazi,
Roy Ayers,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bill Near,
Camouflage,
Moss Icon,
The Searchers,
The Modern Lovers,
The Birthday Party,
Frankie Knuckles,
Kurtis Blow,
The Saints,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Piero Umiliani,
The Monochrome Set,
Eric Copeland,
Blake Baxter,
Model 500,
Vladislav Delay,
Deadbeat,
Lou Christie,
Arab on Radar,
Jacques Brel,
Public Enemy,
The Victims,
Black Bananas,
Vainqueur,
Matthew Halsall,
Glambeats Corp.,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Kevin Saunderson,
Mary Jane Girls,
Eric B and Rakim,
Nick Fraelich,
Boogie Down Productions,
Joyce Sims,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Gun Club,
the Swans,
Michelle Simonal,
Judy Mowatt,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Gap Band,
Visage,
The New Christs,
Andrew Hill,
New York Dolls,
Jawbox,
48th St. Collective,
Television Personalities,
Ralphi Rosario,
ABBA,
Schoolly D,
The Leaves,
John Lydon,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.