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 Norway and from Accra.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 theremin 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 The Golliwogs to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Cale. All the underground hits.
All Bobbi Humphrey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sight & Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a These Immortal Souls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
Angry Samoans,
Aaron Thompson,
Animal Collective,
cv313,
Michelle Simonal,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
John Coltrane,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
David McCallum,
Royal Trux,
The Neon Judgement,
Grey Daturas,
Wings,
Tubeway Army,
The Offenders,
Pere Ubu,
Supertramp,
Organ,
Scientists,
Lower 48,
Faust,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lakeside,
Gang Starr,
Vladislav Delay,
Mary Jane Girls,
Young Marble Giants,
Marine Girls,
Ponytail,
Ornette Coleman,
Robert Wyatt,
Sam Rivers,
Boogie Down Productions,
Rufus Thomas,
Von Mondo,
Little Man,
The Fugs,
Average White Band,
Infiniti,
Hoover,
Sugar Minott,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Nico,
Scott Walker,
Fluxion,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Mo-Dettes,
Rekid,
Wolf Eyes,
Tres Demented,
Aural Exciters,
The Black Dice,
The Move,
Mr. Review,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Shadows of Knight,
Gang Green,
Wally Richardson,
The Searchers,
Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins.
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.