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 Brunei and from Bologna.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Glambeats Corp. to the electroclash 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 The American Breed. All the underground hits.
All The Cosmic Jokers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dave Clark Five 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drive Like Jehu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Juan Atkins,
Harry Pussy,
Scientists,
Connie Case,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Shoche,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Leaves,
Minnie Riperton,
Alison Limerick,
Yellowson,
Lee Hazlewood,
The New Christs,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Happenings,
The Red Krayola,
Stiv Bators,
Gong,
Jacob Miller,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Young Rascals,
Interpol,
David Bowie,
Sparks,
Subhumans,
Basic Channel,
Mo-Dettes,
The Moody Blues,
Boogie Down Productions,
Cal Tjader,
Echospace,
Electric Prunes,
Eric Copeland,
X-101,
Alphaville,
Ohio Players,
These Immortal Souls,
the Soft Cell,
The Tremeloes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Masters at Work,
The Grass Roots,
Cybotron,
Make Up,
48th St. Collective,
The Wake,
Mandrill,
John Coltrane,
The Real Kids,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Qualms,
Frankie Knuckles,
cv313,
Quantec,
Crooked Eye,
Y Pants,
Crime,
Camouflage,
The Modern Lovers,
Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry.
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.