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 Uzbekistan and from Shanghai.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Dead C to the disco 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 Roy Ayers. All the underground hits.
All John Lydon 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 funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Charles Mingus,
Todd Terry,
Qualms,
Big Daddy Kane,
U.S. Maple,
Hardrive,
Von Mondo,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lightning Bolt,
Oneida,
Pantytec,
The Names,
Althea and Donna,
Rod Modell,
Newcleus,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Model 500,
The Raincoats,
The Index,
Magma,
The Gun Club,
Minor Threat,
The Skatalites,
Graham Central Station,
The Smiths,
These Immortal Souls,
The Litter,
Loose Ends,
The United States of America,
Parry Music,
The Blues Magoos,
Lebanon Hanover,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Funky Four + One,
The Saints,
Circle Jerks,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Ten City,
Letta Mbulu,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Gerry Rafferty,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Absolute Body Control,
Thee Headcoats,
UT,
Procol Harum,
The Walker Brothers,
Ultra Naté,
Theoretical Girls,
Aural Exciters,
Arcadia,
Tomorrow,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Darondo,
The Moleskins,
Anakelly,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
JFA,
The Mojo Men,
The Fortunes,
Kas Product,
Country Joe & The Fish,
DJ Sneak,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams.
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.