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 Bahamas and from Glasgow.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Barbara Tucker to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 World's Most. All the underground hits.
All Danielle Patucci tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lightning Bolt 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans 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?
Lou Christie,
OOIOO,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Marvin Gaye,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Zero Boys,
Dual Sessions,
Boredoms,
Qualms,
F. McDonald,
June of 44,
Roger Hodgson,
Rakim,
In Retrospect,
Jawbox,
Josef K,
Mars,
The Divine Comedy,
Eddi Front,
Liliput,
Metal Thangz,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Trojans,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Amazonics,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Nils Olav,
Audionom,
H. Thieme,
Scientists,
Eric Copeland,
The Residents,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Soul II Soul,
Ultimate Spinach,
Easy Going,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Byron Stingily,
Moby Grape,
Steve Hackett,
Crooked Eye,
Lungfish,
Stetsasonic,
Mr. Review,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ossler,
Scrapy,
Robert Wyatt,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Symarip,
the Soft Cell,
Thee Headcoats,
Faraquet,
Eve St. Jones,
The Last Poets,
Todd Rundgren,
The Velvet Underground,
Black Moon,
EPMD,
Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock.
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.