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 Uzbekistan and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Doors to the crunk 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 Camouflage. All the underground hits.
All Ornette Coleman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy Collins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rotary Connection,
The Cure,
Black Sheep,
DNA,
Pierre Henry,
Stereo Dub,
Roxette,
The Fortunes,
Fatback Band,
Todd Terry,
Slick Rick,
Angry Samoans,
Fugazi,
Peter and Kerry,
Siglo XX,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ohio Players,
Minnie Riperton,
The Martian,
Clear Light,
The Fugs,
Intrusion,
World's Most,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Grandmaster Flash,
Sex Pistols,
Anakelly,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lightning Bolt,
Isaac Hayes,
Jawbox,
The Leaves,
Aloha Tigers,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Fall,
K-Klass,
Deakin,
KRS-One,
Sexual Harrassment,
Basic Channel,
Average White Band,
Bush Tetras,
ABC,
Bobby Sherman,
Boz Scaggs,
Agent Orange,
Bad Manners,
Terry Callier,
June of 44,
Surgeon,
Gabor Szabo,
These Immortal Souls,
Joe Finger,
The Evens,
Chris Corsano,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Technova,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Zero Boys,
Mary Jane Girls,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Section 25,
Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow.
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.