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 Tanzania and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 Accra and Johannesburg.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Al Stewart to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Country Teasers. All the underground hits.
All Bob Dylan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Charles Mingus,
Agent Orange,
Lower 48,
The Gories,
Wally Richardson,
Eve St. Jones,
Hasil Adkins,
the Human League,
the Normal,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Kinks,
Rites of Spring,
Alice Coltrane,
Colin Newman,
Black Moon,
Moby Grape,
The Blues Magoos,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Smoke,
Johnny Osbourne,
Rapeman,
Albert Ayler,
The Vogues,
Absolute Body Control,
Pulsallama,
The Durutti Column,
Yazoo,
Glambeats Corp.,
Metal Thangz,
David McCallum,
Bauhaus,
Dead Boys,
Be Bop Deluxe,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Hot Snakes,
Tomorrow,
the Sonics,
Tubeway Army,
Ken Boothe,
Tropical Tobacco,
Eric Dolphy,
48th St. Collective,
Animal Collective,
Dark Day,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Thee Headcoats,
F. McDonald,
Unrelated Segments,
Rhythm & Sound,
Jacques Brel,
Blake Baxter,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Deakin,
The Selecter,
Qualms,
Whodini,
The Barracudas,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Tremeloes,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.