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 Armenia and from Johannesburg.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 T.S.O.L. to the techno 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 Pere Ubu. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Byron Stingily,
Laurel Aitken,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Stockholm Monsters,
Barbara Tucker,
Qualms,
Rod Modell,
Shoche,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
La Düsseldorf,
Pantaleimon,
Bootsy Collins,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Five Americans,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Slits,
Prince Buster,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Ultravox,
Whodini,
H. Thieme,
Brothers Johnson,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Fortunes,
Scott Walker,
Juan Atkins,
Roger Hodgson,
Sexual Harrassment,
Donald Byrd,
Junior Murvin,
Nirvana,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Joyce Sims,
Sun Ra,
AZ,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Mr. Review,
Dead Boys,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Eurythmics,
Lower 48,
The Smoke,
Moss Icon,
Arthur Verocai,
Bush Tetras,
David Axelrod,
DNA,
Q and Not U,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Television Personalities,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
MDC,
the Normal,
The Red Krayola,
Buzzcocks,
T.S.O.L.,
Rapeman,
Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins.
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.