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 Ghana and from Accra.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the guitar 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 Y Pants to the electroclash 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 Infiniti. All the underground hits.
All Duran Duran tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maleditus Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pierre Henry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Birthday Party,
Yazoo,
The Busters,
Camouflage,
Rekid,
The Star Department,
Deakin,
Inner City,
World's Most,
Gang Starr,
The Doobie Brothers,
Mad Mike,
Mandrill,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
LL Cool J,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Lindisfarne,
Easy Going,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Minutemen,
Marshall Jefferson,
Livin' Joy,
Jacques Brel,
Gabor Szabo,
The Smiths,
The Cramps,
Blossom Toes,
Spoonie Gee,
DJ Sneak,
The Smoke,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Fluxion,
cv313,
Hasil Adkins,
The Grass Roots,
The J.B.'s,
the Swans,
The Fall,
Magma,
Quando Quango,
Minny Pops,
Rites of Spring,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Pulsallama,
Nick Fraelich,
Radiopuhelimet,
Ten City,
Guru Guru,
Chrome,
Harmonia,
Ralphi Rosario,
James White and The Blacks,
The Detroit Cobras,
Davy DMX,
Crispian St. Peters,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Real Kids,
June of 44,
10cc,
X-101,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.