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 Argentina and from Taipei.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Severed Heads to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Busters. All the underground hits.
All Archie Shepp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Smiths,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
KRS-One,
Cecil Taylor,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Byron Stingily,
Scan 7,
Eli Mardock,
Parry Music,
Skriet,
Glambeats Corp.,
Outsiders,
The Grass Roots,
The Vogues,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lightning Bolt,
Angry Samoans,
Tears for Fears,
Kevin Saunderson,
Monks,
Albert Ayler,
X-Ray Spex,
Bootsy Collins,
Drexciya,
Rotary Connection,
Stiv Bators,
The Sound,
Inner City,
Judy Mowatt,
Alison Limerick,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Pop Group,
Erykah Badu,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Stockholm Monsters,
Shuggie Otis,
Adolescents,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Whodini,
Wings,
The Victims,
Letta Mbulu,
The Gap Band,
John Lydon,
Cybotron,
Big Daddy Kane,
Eve St. Jones,
Roxette,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Scott Walker,
The Remains,
Lucky Dragons,
Underground Resistance,
The Sonics,
the Fania All-Stars,
Icehouse,
The Busters,
Gerry Rafferty,
Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson.
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.