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 Angola and from Lagos.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Neu! to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Boredoms. All the underground hits.
All Charles Mingus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every It's A Beautiful Day 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
JFA,
Morten Harket,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Walker Brothers,
The Sound,
Idris Muhammad,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Alarm Clocks,
Inner City,
Pantaleimon,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sexual Harrassment,
Albert Ayler,
Traffic Nightmare,
Echospace,
Ralphi Rosario,
Neil Young,
Eurythmics,
Bluetip,
Reuben Wilson,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Donny Hathaway,
T. Rex,
Jimmy McGriff,
Subhumans,
Robert Görl,
Carl Craig,
The Moleskins,
Cheater Slicks,
Rapeman,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Standells,
Outsiders,
Popol Vuh,
The Shadows of Knight,
Kerri Chandler,
Chrome,
Deakin,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
New York Dolls,
Siglo XX,
The Last Poets,
Wolf Eyes,
Crooked Eye,
Whodini,
Surgeon,
Eden Ahbez,
Rites of Spring,
Tropical Tobacco,
Barbara Tucker,
Jacob Miller,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Raincoats,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Gong,
Roxy Music,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Faraquet,
Arthur Verocai,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
H. Thieme,
The Doobie Brothers,
Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees.
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.