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 Sri Lanka and from Mexico City.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 spring reverb 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 A Certain Ratio to the jazz 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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam. All the underground hits.
All Livin' Joy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Khruangbin 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scratch Acid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
Mantronix,
Youth Brigade,
Fugazi,
Absolute Body Control,
Scion,
The Busters,
The Angels of Light,
Buzzcocks,
Lower 48,
Sex Pistols,
Ohio Players,
Mark Hollis,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Matthew Bourne,
Eric B and Rakim,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sister Nancy,
Swell Maps,
Terry Callier,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Barry Ungar,
Brick,
Suicide,
Icehouse,
Wolf Eyes,
The Last Poets,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Bootsy Collins,
Kerri Chandler,
David Axelrod,
PIL,
Organ,
Magma,
Y Pants,
June Days,
Unwound,
Smog,
U.S. Maple,
The Tremeloes,
Siglo XX,
The Gap Band,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Crime,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sun Ra,
Throbbing Gristle,
Accadde A,
48th St. Collective,
Gang Green,
Bizarre Inc.,
John Foxx,
Traffic Nightmare,
Man Parrish,
X-101,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Neon Judgement,
Bill Near,
Flamin' Groovies,
New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls.
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.