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 El Salvador and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Rosa Yemen to the rap 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 Gregory Isaacs. All the underground hits.
All Deepchord tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yellowson 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cheater Slicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erasure,
Popol Vuh,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Wasted Youth,
Crash Course in Science,
Public Enemy,
Oblivians,
Bob Dylan,
Scan 7,
Suicide,
The Trojans,
Con Funk Shun,
Roy Ayers,
Wally Richardson,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Cymande,
Pole,
X-Ray Spex,
The Dead C,
Terry Callier,
Sun City Girls,
Subhumans,
Carl Craig,
The Music Machine,
Black Flag,
Erykah Badu,
Country Teasers,
Patti Smith,
Pierre Henry,
Stiv Bators,
These Immortal Souls,
Sarah Menescal,
the Swans,
The Vogues,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Saints,
Roger Hodgson,
Stereo Dub,
Aloha Tigers,
the Normal,
Byron Stingily,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Lyres,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
X-101,
The Golliwogs,
Boredoms,
Q and Not U,
Ralphi Rosario,
Second Layer,
Black Sheep,
Heaven 17,
Blossom Toes,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Eve St. Jones,
Piero Umiliani,
The Velvet Underground,
Hashim,
Alice Coltrane,
Robert Wyatt,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton.
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.