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 Uzbekistan and from Bologna.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Robert Hood to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Swans. All the underground hits.
All La Düsseldorf tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fuzztones,
The Doobie Brothers,
Terry Callier,
Andrew Hill,
The Five Americans,
Popol Vuh,
Los Fastidios,
Shoche,
The Victims,
Skaos,
AZ,
Max Romeo,
Hashim,
Reuben Wilson,
The Cowsills,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sam Rivers,
Crispian St. Peters,
John Coltrane,
The Fortunes,
the Association,
The Tremeloes,
Public Image Ltd.,
Deadbeat,
Niagra,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Henry Cow,
Fatback Band,
The Gladiators,
The Gun Club,
Moss Icon,
The Associates,
the Human League,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Star Department,
48th St. Collective,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Stetsasonic,
Blancmange,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Rufus Thomas,
Rapeman,
Juan Atkins,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Invisible,
Jeff Mills,
The Happenings,
Q65,
Soulsonic Force,
Kevin Saunderson,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Joey Negro,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Birthday Party,
The Dirtbombs,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Barracudas,
Heaven 17,
Aswad,
Pantaleimon,
Tears for Fears,
Joy Division,
Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo.
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.