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 Uruguay and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Porter Ricks to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Heavy D & The Boyz. All the underground hits.
All Wolf Eyes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Girls At Our Best! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Circle Jerks,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Cecil Taylor,
The Dead C,
A Certain Ratio,
The Techniques,
Section 25,
The Monks,
The Cure,
Slave,
Tres Demented,
Suicide,
Bluetip,
Stetsasonic,
The Velvet Underground,
Faust,
Duran Duran,
Spandau Ballet,
Stockholm Monsters,
D'Angelo,
New Age Steppers,
Symarip,
Flamin' Groovies,
Main Source,
Accadde A,
Stereo Dub,
Crooked Eye,
Scientists,
Freddie Wadling,
Patti Smith,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Shuggie Otis,
Rapeman,
Chris Corsano,
Khruangbin,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Letta Mbulu,
Marvin Gaye,
Newcleus,
Ralphi Rosario,
Janne Schatter,
The Trojans,
Interpol,
Crispy Ambulance,
ABBA,
The Remains,
Angry Samoans,
Jerry Gold Smith,
June of 44,
Flipper,
The Doors,
Pagans,
World's Most,
The Evens,
Lightning Bolt,
Subhumans,
The Sound,
Ponytail,
The Residents,
Sarah Menescal,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
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.