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 Colombia and from Johannesburg.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 synthesizer 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 Thee Headcoats to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Lou Reed & John Cale. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bizarre Inc. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
UT,
The Birthday Party,
Fatback Band,
The Busters,
Alison Limerick,
Jeff Mills,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Flesh Eaters,
Joy Division,
Jeff Lynne,
Magazine,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Electric Prunes,
The Fortunes,
Robert Görl,
Arthur Verocai,
Pere Ubu,
Connie Case,
Country Teasers,
The Doors,
Deadbeat,
a-ha,
Gang of Four,
Prince Buster,
cv313,
Grey Daturas,
Patti Smith,
The Techniques,
Lalo Schifrin,
OOIOO,
Schoolly D,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Dirtbombs,
Neu!,
Electric Prunes,
The Mojo Men,
Barry Ungar,
MDC,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Lou Reed,
Joe Smooth,
Glenn Branca,
The Associates,
Supertramp,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Slackers,
The Dead C,
Lucky Dragons,
Angry Samoans,
Pylon,
10cc,
Minutemen,
Sixth Finger,
Andrew Hill,
Slave,
Crime,
The Cosmic Jokers,
CMW,
Wings,
E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer.
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.