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 Thailand and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Copenhagen.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the güiro 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 Alice Coltrane to the jazz 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All The Dead C tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Silicon Teens record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Negative Approach,
Radio Birdman,
Crash Course in Science,
The Dirtbombs,
Crooked Eye,
Crime,
Marcia Griffiths,
Junior Murvin,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Barracudas,
Idris Muhammad,
Liliput,
Spandau Ballet,
Khruangbin,
The Fuzztones,
Main Source,
This Heat,
X-102,
Essential Logic,
Skriet,
Cluster,
The Last Poets,
Technova,
The Fugs,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Joyce Sims,
Magma,
Bush Tetras,
Deakin,
the Slits,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ralphi Rosario,
Malaria!,
Quadrant,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
R.M.O.,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Scratch Acid,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Roger Hodgson,
The Monks,
Avey Tare,
Bob Dylan,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sight & Sound,
Boredoms,
Frankie Knuckles,
Silicon Teens,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Nils Olav,
Gregory Isaacs,
Nick Fraelich,
Nik Kershaw,
The Searchers,
Glenn Branca,
Yaz,
Interpol,
Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees.
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.