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 Iran and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 arpeggiator 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 Ohio Players to the crunk 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 Bill Near. All the underground hits.
All Gong tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ice-T record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s 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 Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
DJ Style,
Crime,
Soulsonic Force,
Max Romeo,
Kerrie Biddell,
Mandrill,
Cymande,
Marshall Jefferson,
the Slits,
David Bowie,
Lindisfarne,
F. McDonald,
Ronnie Foster,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Ohio Players,
Monolake,
Can,
Iggy Pop,
The Fire Engines,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Zeros,
Minutemen,
Bootsy Collins,
Ornette Coleman,
Severed Heads,
The Raincoats,
The United States of America,
The Count Five,
Pole,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Nas,
Man Parrish,
Goldenarms,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Five Americans,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Cecil Taylor,
Harpers Bizarre,
Jawbox,
Outsiders,
Amon Düül,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Duran Duran,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sixth Finger,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Joy Division,
Radiohead,
Robert Wyatt,
Eric B and Rakim,
Swans,
Robert Görl,
Liliput,
Jeff Lynne,
Joensuu 1685,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sun City Girls,
Howard Jones,
Clear Light,
Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins.
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.