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 Niger and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Columbus.
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 synthesizer 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 Hot Snakes to the funk 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 Organ. All the underground hits.
All Dawn Penn tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Move record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Starr record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Beau Brummels,
The Selecter,
Schoolly D,
The Five Americans,
Hashim,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Von Mondo,
Angry Samoans,
Mad Mike,
Delon & Dalcan,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Gladiators,
Minutemen,
The Happenings,
Maleditus Sound,
Lebanon Hanover,
Scion,
Sister Nancy,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Franke,
The Doobie Brothers,
Anthony Braxton,
The United States of America,
Moss Icon,
Roxy Music,
Byron Stingily,
Freddie Wadling,
Warren Ellis,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
John Foxx,
The Litter,
Terry Callier,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Das Ding,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Marmalade,
Warsaw,
Dennis Brown,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gang Green,
Rapeman,
Nation of Ulysses,
Fad Gadget,
Spoonie Gee,
Absolute Body Control,
Ornette Coleman,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Pussy Galore,
Deakin,
Dual Sessions,
Wire,
Sällskapet,
Smog,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Barclay James Harvest,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Gun Club,
Aloha Tigers,
Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms.
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.