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 Bahamas and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Martian to the rock 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 Eden Ahbez. All the underground hits.
All Mandrill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Laurel Aitken record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Hasil Adkins,
Oblivians,
Lalann,
The Buckinghams,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Barbara Tucker,
Joy Division,
Unwound,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Gichy Dan,
Jawbox,
Dorothy Ashby,
Shoche,
Sister Nancy,
The Barracudas,
Underground Resistance,
Pussy Galore,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Severed Heads,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Boredoms,
Pylon,
Barry Ungar,
Max Romeo,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Suicide,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Ralphi Rosario,
Kerri Chandler,
Skriet,
Franke,
Black Moon,
The Sonics,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sexual Harrassment,
Silicon Teens,
Kenny Larkin,
Donald Byrd,
Curtis Mayfield,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Scan 7,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Public Enemy,
Quantec,
Amazonics,
Aswad,
T. Rex,
Matthew Halsall,
Surgeon,
Scrapy,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bang On A Can,
Cybotron,
The Birthday Party,
La Düsseldorf,
The Fall,
Unrelated Segments,
Soul II Soul,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark.
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.