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 Fiji and from Jakarta.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Rod Modell to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All The Blues Magoos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glambeats Corp. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mojo Men,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Human League,
Fatback Band,
Surgeon,
Tears for Fears,
Ultimate Spinach,
Camouflage,
Theoretical Girls,
Danielle Patucci,
AZ,
Moby Grape,
Charles Mingus,
The Monks,
Organ,
Maurizio,
Deakin,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Roxy Music,
48th St. Collective,
Don Cherry,
Lalo Schifrin,
Schoolly D,
Infiniti,
Mandrill,
The Five Americans,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Tremeloes,
Anthony Braxton,
The Pretty Things,
Todd Terry,
Rekid,
The Black Dice,
Letta Mbulu,
Eddi Front,
Nation of Ulysses,
New Order,
Au Pairs,
Electric Prunes,
Black Pus,
Ralphi Rosario,
Graham Central Station,
Gregory Isaacs,
Brand Nubian,
The Star Department,
The Techniques,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Jacques Brel,
The Index,
EPMD,
DNA,
David McCallum,
Black Flag,
Pierre Henry,
Altered Images,
Gabor Szabo,
Marshall Jefferson,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Dawn Penn,
This Heat,
Ken Boothe,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz.
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.