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 Sudan and from Cairo.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 L. Decosne to the crunk 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 Infiniti. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every This Heat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultravox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare,
The Trojans,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Saints,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Johnny Osbourne,
Barbara Tucker,
Circle Jerks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Kevin Saunderson,
Pulsallama,
The Invisible,
Whodini,
Frankie Knuckles,
Grauzone,
H. Thieme,
Bobby Byrd,
Mission of Burma,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Jimmy McGriff,
Chris & Cosey,
The Shadows of Knight,
Sight & Sound,
Japan,
The Tremeloes,
Public Enemy,
Model 500,
Sarah Menescal,
Pylon,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Cluster,
Gastr Del Sol,
Slave,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Howard Jones,
Mad Mike,
The Walker Brothers,
the Sonics,
Qualms,
Magazine,
Camberwell Now,
Glenn Branca,
The Gories,
Deakin,
Porter Ricks,
Mars,
Young Marble Giants,
Sexual Harrassment,
Hot Snakes,
Franke,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Suburban Knight,
The Human League,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Faust,
Tubeway Army,
Bluetip,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.