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 Canada and from Glasgow.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Sao Paulo.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Tres Demented. All the underground hits.
All kango's stein massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sonny Sharrock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blake Baxter,
Skarface,
Letta Mbulu,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Pantytec,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Busters,
Grey Daturas,
X-Ray Spex,
Grandmaster Flash,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Idris Muhammad,
The Gories,
Rapeman,
The Knickerbockers,
cv313,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
New Order,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Fuzztones,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Anthony Braxton,
Joensuu 1685,
Glenn Branca,
R.M.O.,
Magazine,
Pere Ubu,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Delta 5,
the Swans,
Buzzcocks,
Kaleidoscope,
Faust,
Stiv Bators,
Symarip,
Dennis Brown,
Lee Hazlewood,
Soft Cell,
Quadrant,
Marine Girls,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bootsy Collins,
Radiopuhelimet,
Lyres,
Kerrie Biddell,
Dorothy Ashby,
New Age Steppers,
Gabor Szabo,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Residents,
Loose Ends,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Goldenarms,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Half Japanese,
ABC,
Skriet,
Ossler,
Au Pairs,
The Dirtbombs,
Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler.
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.