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 Brazil and from Spokane.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the organ 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 Whodini to the grime 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 Sun Ra Arkestra. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sarah Menescal 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gabor Szabo,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Eric Copeland,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Symarip,
Erasure,
Tommy Roe,
Model 500,
EPMD,
Gong,
Charles Mingus,
Youth Brigade,
Stiv Bators,
Bizarre Inc.,
Pere Ubu,
The Saints,
Outsiders,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bauhaus,
Eden Ahbez,
Thee Headcoats,
Japan,
Glenn Branca,
Nils Olav,
Pole,
Graham Central Station,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Rod Modell,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Moebius,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Blues Magoos,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Bill Near,
Davy DMX,
Siglo XX,
Masters at Work,
Scientists,
The Moody Blues,
Arab on Radar,
X-102,
Von Mondo,
Fifty Foot Hose,
June Days,
Man Parrish,
Theoretical Girls,
Sällskapet,
Ornette Coleman,
Reuben Wilson,
Robert Wyatt,
Ronan,
Tubeway Army,
Eddi Front,
Matthew Bourne,
The Zeros,
The Martian,
Rites of Spring,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet.
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.