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 Bolivia and from Taipei.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 spring reverb 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 Second Layer to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All One Last Wish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Flock of Seagulls 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 snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barbara Tucker,
EPMD,
Stockholm Monsters,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Hardrive,
Underground Resistance,
Black Moon,
Crispian St. Peters,
James White and The Blacks,
Scratch Acid,
Brick,
Soulsonic Force,
Tim Buckley,
The New Christs,
The Angels of Light,
the Bar-Kays,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The American Breed,
Clear Light,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Blackbyrds,
Circle Jerks,
Q65,
The Vogues,
Bad Manners,
Symarip,
Curtis Mayfield,
Oblivians,
The Standells,
Kurtis Blow,
The Mojo Men,
Bang On A Can,
Urselle,
Gastr Del Sol,
Massinfluence,
The Slits,
Roy Ayers,
Deakin,
Jerry's Kids,
John Foxx,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Yaz,
Agent Orange,
Gabor Szabo,
The Sonics,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
June of 44,
Slick Rick,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sonic Youth,
Jimmy McGriff,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Sound,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Barrington Levy,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Au Pairs,
Marmalade,
Inner City,
Whodini,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.