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 Suriname and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Max Romeo to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Beau Brummels. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Byron Stingily record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Johnny Clarke,
The Angels of Light,
Electric Prunes,
Newcleus,
Sister Nancy,
Black Pus,
Fad Gadget,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Television Personalities,
Gregory Isaacs,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Music Machine,
FM Einheit,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Shuggie Otis,
Yazoo,
Soulsonic Force,
Junior Murvin,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bobby Byrd,
June of 44,
Flamin' Groovies,
Morten Harket,
Josef K,
The Birthday Party,
Chrome,
Terrestrial Tones,
Girls At Our Best!,
Todd Terry,
Black Moon,
Aswad,
Easy Going,
Fatback Band,
The Neon Judgement,
a-ha,
Symarip,
Deepchord,
Arab on Radar,
Joe Smooth,
Trumans Water,
Q and Not U,
The Durutti Column,
Barry Ungar,
Accadde A,
The Wake,
Radiopuhelimet,
Altered Images,
Wally Richardson,
The Fugs,
the Soft Cell,
Arthur Verocai,
Boredoms,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Stockholm Monsters,
Jimmy McGriff,
Man Parrish,
Peter & Gordon,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Pharoah Sanders,
Ponytail,
Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt, Judy Mowatt.
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.