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 Yemen and from Madrid.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 chamberlin 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 Minnie Riperton to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Freddie Wadling tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oneida record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
Interpol,
Reuben Wilson,
Cal Tjader,
Graham Central Station,
The Beau Brummels,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Dave Clark Five,
Dead Boys,
The Shadows of Knight,
10cc,
Dennis Brown,
Audionom,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Hasil Adkins,
Eden Ahbez,
Grauzone,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Walker Brothers,
Magma,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Robert Wyatt,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Monochrome Set,
Rod Modell,
Aloha Tigers,
The Real Kids,
Tim Buckley,
cv313,
Joey Negro,
Jeru the Damaja,
Toni Rubio,
Stiv Bators,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Marmalade,
the Association,
Gong,
Ossler,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Misunderstood,
Joe Finger,
Stockholm Monsters,
A Certain Ratio,
Das Ding,
Erasure,
Visage,
Kenny Larkin,
Brass Construction,
The Alarm Clocks,
Avey Tare,
The Dirtbombs,
Archie Shepp,
Ice-T,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Underground Resistance,
Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood.
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.