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 Monaco and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 New York Dolls 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 Average White Band. All the underground hits.
All Byron Stingily tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
Dead Boys,
Lungfish,
The Cosmic Jokers,
LL Cool J,
Sex Pistols,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Glenn Branca,
DJ Style,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Symarip,
Hashim,
Sam Rivers,
Graham Central Station,
Mark Hollis,
Hot Snakes,
Kas Product,
Royal Trux,
La Düsseldorf,
Gil Scott Heron,
Charles Mingus,
10cc,
Barbara Tucker,
Janne Schatter,
Lou Reed,
The Monks,
Aaron Thompson,
The Residents,
Maleditus Sound,
Black Sheep,
Ice-T,
Animal Collective,
The Cowsills,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Leaves,
Basic Channel,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
D'Angelo,
Joe Smooth,
Gang Starr,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Seeds,
David Bowie,
the Bar-Kays,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Parry Music,
Mad Mike,
Excepter,
Dorothy Ashby,
Mars,
Crispian St. Peters,
Black Pus,
Siglo XX,
a-ha,
Magma,
Aloha Tigers,
One Last Wish,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Moebius,
Monolake,
Adolescents,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.