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 Fiji and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Television Personalities to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Remains. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barrington Levy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Residents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
Guru Guru,
Harry Pussy,
The Beau Brummels,
Avey Tare,
Pussy Galore,
Alphaville,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Faraquet,
Aloha Tigers,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Al Stewart,
Pantaleimon,
Ralphi Rosario,
Rapeman,
The Slackers,
Brass Construction,
Joey Negro,
Public Enemy,
Cal Tjader,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Black Flag,
Animal Collective,
The Sonics,
The United States of America,
Alice Coltrane,
Roxy Music,
the Sonics,
Arcadia,
Flipper,
Crispy Ambulance,
Mars,
The Count Five,
The Barracudas,
R.M.O.,
Lungfish,
Rakim,
Eric Dolphy,
Dawn Penn,
Fela Kuti,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Man Parrish,
Girls At Our Best!,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Wally Richardson,
Amon Düül II,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Derrick May,
Chrome,
Second Layer,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Leonard Cohen,
Tommy Roe,
Procol Harum,
Silicon Teens,
Lightning Bolt,
Todd Terry,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Raincoats,
The Durutti Column,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Techniques, The Techniques, The Techniques, The Techniques.
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.