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 Poland and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Judy Mowatt to the rap 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 Camouflage. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mo-Dettes 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Litter,
Roy Ayers,
The Alarm Clocks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The J.B.'s,
The Invisible,
The Electric Prunes,
Peter and Kerry,
Gerry Rafferty,
Cameo,
Lower 48,
Andrew Hill,
Mandrill,
Sandy B,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Excepter,
The Buckinghams,
Intrusion,
the Human League,
Flash Fearless,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Marmalade,
The Fugs,
Yusef Lateef,
John Holt,
The Monochrome Set,
Reuben Wilson,
B.T. Express,
Eric Dolphy,
Ornette Coleman,
Lindisfarne,
Leonard Cohen,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Arthur Verocai,
The Beau Brummels,
Porter Ricks,
Q65,
Iggy Pop,
Freddie Wadling,
Unrelated Segments,
Faraquet,
Prince Buster,
Eve St. Jones,
Scion,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Lightning Bolt,
Cluster,
The Tremeloes,
Todd Rundgren,
Morten Harket,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Depeche Mode,
New Order,
The Smiths,
ABBA,
Vladislav Delay,
Eric Copeland,
Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer.
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.