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 Philippines and from Portland.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Pierre Henry to the funk 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 The Human League. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dave Clark Five,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
MC5,
the Swans,
cv313,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Invisible,
Freddie Wadling,
Cheater Slicks,
Whodini,
Iggy Pop,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Slits,
kango's stein massive,
Harry Pussy,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Symarip,
Mad Mike,
Dark Day,
Altered Images,
Gerry Rafferty,
Severed Heads,
Lower 48,
Loose Ends,
Reuben Wilson,
Mo-Dettes,
Technova,
Jimmy McGriff,
Magazine,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
H. Thieme,
Sällskapet,
Bobby Womack,
Crispian St. Peters,
Angry Samoans,
Television Personalities,
Livin' Joy,
The Monochrome Set,
Motorama,
Smog,
Hashim,
The United States of America,
Pierre Henry,
The Count Five,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Litter,
Grauzone,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Procol Harum,
Barry Ungar,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Aloha Tigers,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Crash Course in Science,
Inner City,
Lalo Schifrin,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Robert Görl,
KRS-One,
New Age Steppers,
FM Einheit,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.