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 Gambia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 theremin 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 Gian Franco Pienzio to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Massinfluence. All the underground hits.
All Chris & Cosey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Alton Ellis,
Bang On A Can,
Metal Thangz,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Monochrome Set,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gil Scott Heron,
Cymande,
Pussy Galore,
Grey Daturas,
L. Decosne,
Animal Collective,
Pere Ubu,
Althea and Donna,
Crime,
Gang Green,
Pulsallama,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Wake,
The Moleskins,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Funkadelic,
Todd Rundgren,
Brass Construction,
Byron Stingily,
Mission of Burma,
The Sonics,
Hardrive,
Black Sheep,
The Gladiators,
Skriet,
FM Einheit,
Minnie Riperton,
The Music Machine,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Index,
Youth Brigade,
Gastr Del Sol,
Subhumans,
Deadbeat,
Das Ding,
Pagans,
Amazonics,
Little Man,
Deepchord,
Bronski Beat,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Yellowson,
Livin' Joy,
Kaleidoscope,
Fugazi,
Oneida,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bob Dylan,
ABBA,
Make Up,
Fatback Band,
Scratch Acid,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.