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 Tuvalu and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Stockholm.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Tropical Tobacco to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Barry Ungar. All the underground hits.
All Gastr Del Sol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aaron Thompson 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Con Funk Shun record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABBA,
The Evens,
Lou Christie,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Blancmange,
The Names,
Sister Nancy,
a-ha,
K-Klass,
Ludus,
Los Fastidios,
Sexual Harrassment,
Quadrant,
Arcadia,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Mars,
Crash Course in Science,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Amazonics,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Freddie Wadling,
Pylon,
Barclay James Harvest,
Soft Cell,
Can,
Hot Snakes,
Intrusion,
Fluxion,
Newcleus,
Donny Hathaway,
Desert Stars,
Alison Limerick,
The Music Machine,
Khruangbin,
Babytalk,
The Barracudas,
The Leaves,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Young Rascals,
Bang On A Can,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Quando Quango,
The Blackbyrds,
Sam Rivers,
Minnie Riperton,
Kayak,
Harry Pussy,
La Düsseldorf,
Black Sheep,
Rites of Spring,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
E-Dancer,
Jandek,
T.S.O.L.,
The Dave Clark Five,
Jeff Lynne,
David McCallum,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Spandau Ballet,
The Residents,
Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren.
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.