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 Yemen and from Calgary.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Flamin' Groovies to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All Ludus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sister Nancy 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arcadia,
Echospace,
Sound Behaviour,
John Foxx,
Tomorrow,
Buzzcocks,
Arab on Radar,
The Pretty Things,
Ken Boothe,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Organ,
The Gories,
Man Parrish,
This Heat,
Tommy Roe,
The Sound,
Tim Buckley,
Colin Newman,
Wally Richardson,
Model 500,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Moody Blues,
Japan,
Stiv Bators,
Radiopuhelimet,
Kerrie Biddell,
Max Romeo,
Anthony Braxton,
Newcleus,
The Remains,
Robert Görl,
the Germs,
Sun City Girls,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Das Ding,
Leonard Cohen,
The Cramps,
Spoonie Gee,
Harpers Bizarre,
Blancmange,
Dark Day,
Ronan,
The Barracudas,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Alice Coltrane,
Desert Stars,
Scratch Acid,
Scientists,
Symarip,
DJ Sneak,
In Retrospect,
Freddie Wadling,
The Motions,
The Music Machine,
Sex Pistols,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Malaria!,
Alton Ellis,
Panda Bear,
Groovy Waters,
Audionom,
The Cure,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.