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 Lesotho and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 oboe 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 Grandmaster Flash to the electroclash 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 The Monks. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gary Puckett & The Union Gap record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
Trumans Water,
Flamin' Groovies,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Severed Heads,
Ludus,
Cheater Slicks,
Pole,
Pulsallama,
Quantec,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Banda Bassotti,
F. McDonald,
Blake Baxter,
The Golliwogs,
Oneida,
DJ Style,
Cal Tjader,
U.S. Maple,
Jandek,
Ice-T,
Niagra,
Arcadia,
Terry Callier,
Scott Walker,
Thee Headcoats,
Matthew Halsall,
Oblivians,
Faraquet,
Al Stewart,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
OOIOO,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Pierre Henry,
Fad Gadget,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
David McCallum,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Godley & Creme,
The Fuzztones,
Unwound,
The Index,
Adolescents,
Sex Pistols,
Los Fastidios,
Public Image Ltd.,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Mad Mike,
Juan Atkins,
Sixth Finger,
Bobby Womack,
Curtis Mayfield,
Main Source,
Stiv Bators,
June of 44,
Ken Boothe,
Roxette,
The Flesh Eaters,
Whodini,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.