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 Cyprus and from Calgary.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 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 Zapp to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft. All the underground hits.
All Nils Olav tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James Chance & The Contortions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harpers Bizarre record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funkadelic,
The Angels of Light,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Monks,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sällskapet,
Surgeon,
Niagra,
Wings,
DJ Sneak,
The Selecter,
Sex Pistols,
Kurtis Blow,
Eden Ahbez,
Deakin,
Zapp,
Funky Four + One,
Dawn Penn,
Wolf Eyes,
Lalann,
New York Dolls,
Harpers Bizarre,
Oneida,
The Wake,
Jandek,
Mandrill,
Supertramp,
New Age Steppers,
the Bar-Kays,
John Holt,
Scientists,
The Trojans,
Todd Rundgren,
Susan Cadogan,
The Fall,
Gang Starr,
Fat Boys,
The Mummies,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Pagans,
Skaos,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Marshall Jefferson,
Quando Quango,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Sound,
The Misunderstood,
Hasil Adkins,
Gregory Isaacs,
Pylon,
Connie Case,
Sam Rivers,
Panda Bear,
Minny Pops,
Brand Nubian,
Electric Prunes,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sonic Youth,
Ponytail,
Erykah Badu,
The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice.
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.