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 Czech Republic and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 Seoul and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 harpsichord 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 Bang On A Can to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Bush Tetras. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Selecter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camberwell Now,
Roxette,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Scrapy,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Searchers,
Franke,
Interpol,
Ten City,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Youth Brigade,
Eddi Front,
Robert Hood,
Chris Corsano,
The Fortunes,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Aaron Thompson,
Laurel Aitken,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Thompson Twins,
Los Fastidios,
Soul II Soul,
The Cowsills,
Janne Schatter,
Marine Girls,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Harpers Bizarre,
Tropical Tobacco,
Visage,
Fugazi,
Symarip,
Gichy Dan,
Siglo XX,
Sällskapet,
June Days,
Niagra,
Alphaville,
Deadbeat,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Alison Limerick,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Soul Sonic Force,
Faraquet,
Hot Snakes,
Jeff Lynne,
The Mighty Diamonds,
48th St. Collective,
Make Up,
Terry Callier,
John Coltrane,
John Holt,
Pierre Henry,
Don Cherry,
Pylon,
Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron.
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.