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 Bhutan and from Accra.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 James Chance & The Contortions to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Howard Jones. All the underground hits.
All Make Up tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Fraelich record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
Slick Rick,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Monks,
Toni Rubio,
The Count Five,
Black Sheep,
The Wake,
The Five Americans,
Donny Hathaway,
Masters at Work,
ABC,
Crispian St. Peters,
Unwound,
Underground Resistance,
Bootsy Collins,
Ronan,
Black Moon,
Monks,
Agitation Free,
Sarah Menescal,
Bill Wells,
Black Pus,
The Selecter,
Rapeman,
Siglo XX,
Deakin,
Barbara Tucker,
AZ,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Funkadelic,
Stereo Dub,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Slackers,
The Real Kids,
Roxy Music,
Bang On A Can,
Janne Schatter,
Bobby Womack,
Loose Ends,
E-Dancer,
Avey Tare,
Groovy Waters,
Eddi Front,
Tom Boy,
Theoretical Girls,
Fad Gadget,
Icehouse,
Khruangbin,
Archie Shepp,
Sparks,
The Names,
Easy Going,
Symarip,
Sound Behaviour,
Gregory Isaacs,
Harry Pussy,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Maleditus Sound,
The Doors,
Drexciya,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Royal Trux,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.