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 Burundi and from Copenhagen.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 The Red Krayola to the funk 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 Scan 7. All the underground hits.
All Albert Ayler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bauhaus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cowsills record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
D'Angelo,
Echospace,
Glenn Branca,
Black Flag,
Mr. Review,
Howard Jones,
Crispy Ambulance,
Harry Pussy,
The Gap Band,
DJ Style,
Lebanon Hanover,
Man Parrish,
Rhythm & Sound,
Circle Jerks,
Davy DMX,
The Zeros,
Amazonics,
Gichy Dan,
Black Pus,
Bronski Beat,
Josef K,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Moss Icon,
Moby Grape,
Soul Sonic Force,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Aloha Tigers,
The Gladiators,
The Blues Magoos,
Kerri Chandler,
Warsaw,
Royal Trux,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Funky Four + One,
The Walker Brothers,
Tears for Fears,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Thee Headcoats,
Essential Logic,
the Bar-Kays,
One Last Wish,
Outsiders,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Donny Hathaway,
Mad Mike,
Fluxion,
Absolute Body Control,
Arthur Verocai,
Loose Ends,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ornette Coleman,
Al Stewart,
The Searchers,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Spoonie Gee,
Morten Harket,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots.
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.