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 Norway and from Portland.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Sällskapet to the jazz 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 Bobby Womack. All the underground hits.
All Bush Tetras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Judy Mowatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siglo XX,
Qualms,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sandy B,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Angels of Light,
Parry Music,
The Gun Club,
Technova,
Black Bananas,
Bill Wells,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Model 500,
Rhythm & Sound,
Maleditus Sound,
E-Dancer,
Metal Thangz,
Maurizio,
Animal Collective,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Guru Guru,
Kevin Saunderson,
Crooked Eye,
Vladislav Delay,
Sonic Youth,
Massinfluence,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Beau Brummels,
Silicon Teens,
Shuggie Otis,
Blossom Toes,
Radio Birdman,
Bobby Womack,
Bauhaus,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Circle Jerks,
B.T. Express,
Wire,
The Vogues,
Outsiders,
Drive Like Jehu,
Ken Boothe,
Swans,
The Misunderstood,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Alice Coltrane,
Monks,
Jeff Mills,
Reagan Youth,
Tubeway Army,
Tears for Fears,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sällskapet,
K-Klass,
Albert Ayler,
Mantronix,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
KRS-One,
Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster.
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.