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 Korea North and from Edmonton.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the organ 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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Radio Birdman. All the underground hits.
All China Crisis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Royal Family And The Poor record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gian Franco Pienzio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alton Ellis,
David Bowie,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gang Starr,
Nik Kershaw,
Soft Cell,
The Techniques,
The Offenders,
John Holt,
Icehouse,
DJ Style,
Bauhaus,
Iggy Pop,
Television,
The American Breed,
Donald Byrd,
F. McDonald,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
David McCallum,
John Foxx,
Skaos,
Niagra,
Grauzone,
Kurtis Blow,
D'Angelo,
Unrelated Segments,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Arcadia,
The Fugs,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Boz Scaggs,
Joey Negro,
the Normal,
The Victims,
Faust,
Sixth Finger,
Eve St. Jones,
The Motions,
Henry Cow,
Silicon Teens,
Girls At Our Best!,
Unwound,
Trumans Water,
Tommy Roe,
Nils Olav,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Music Machine,
Barclay James Harvest,
Marmalade,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pantytec,
Man Parrish,
Banda Bassotti,
kango's stein massive,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Skriet,
Dark Day,
Bill Near,
Pole,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff.
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.