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 Mali and from London.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Walker Brothers. All the underground hits.
All New Age Steppers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharoah Sanders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Main Source,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Barbara Tucker,
Bootsy Collins,
Bill Near,
Reuben Wilson,
Byron Stingily,
Rites of Spring,
Aaron Thompson,
Niagra,
Grey Daturas,
Sound Behaviour,
Ohio Players,
The Motions,
New Age Steppers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Kerri Chandler,
Theoretical Girls,
In Retrospect,
FM Einheit,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Young Marble Giants,
Pierre Henry,
Dark Day,
The Doors,
James White and The Blacks,
Lightning Bolt,
The New Christs,
Cybotron,
The Standells,
The Kinks,
K-Klass,
Black Moon,
Silicon Teens,
Bang On A Can,
Grandmaster Flash,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Lyres,
New Order,
Robert Wyatt,
Pole,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Alphaville,
Los Fastidios,
Section 25,
Eric B and Rakim,
Severed Heads,
Negative Approach,
a-ha,
Judy Mowatt,
Johnny Osbourne,
Connie Case,
Maleditus Sound,
The Monochrome Set,
DJ Style,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Intrusion,
The Alarm Clocks,
Davy DMX,
Stereo Dub,
Boredoms,
Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science.
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.