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 Dominican Republic and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 chamberlin 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 Cluster to the disco 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 Donny Hathaway. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Connie Case record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Iggy Pop record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deepchord,
DNA,
X-102,
Judy Mowatt,
the Swans,
Excepter,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Flash Fearless,
Eric B and Rakim,
Scientists,
Pylon,
Soft Cell,
Ken Boothe,
Television,
Sonic Youth,
Gerry Rafferty,
Spoonie Gee,
Don Cherry,
The Electric Prunes,
Albert Ayler,
James White and The Blacks,
The Cowsills,
Arthur Verocai,
Pierre Henry,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sandy B,
Faraquet,
Suicide,
JFA,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Robert Görl,
Zapp,
Joey Negro,
Kurtis Blow,
Glambeats Corp.,
Mandrill,
Nils Olav,
Bizarre Inc.,
Vladislav Delay,
Magma,
Arcadia,
Marc Almond,
X-101,
Rekid,
Gang Gang Dance,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Morten Harket,
Swans,
Mr. Review,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Rufus Thomas,
Black Sheep,
Harry Pussy,
Neu!,
Cheater Slicks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Jandek,
Unwound,
ABBA,
Bobby Womack,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch.
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.