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 Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 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 Eli Mardock to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Glenn Branca. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy's Rubber Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Motorama 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
In Retrospect,
Frankie Knuckles,
Quantec,
Suicide,
Sarah Menescal,
The Smoke,
Soft Machine,
The Saints,
Jacob Miller,
The Happenings,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Mr. Review,
Thompson Twins,
Moebius,
The Dead C,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Tim Buckley,
Barrington Levy,
the Slits,
Brothers Johnson,
ABC,
La Düsseldorf,
Schoolly D,
Fugazi,
Al Stewart,
The Sound,
The Mojo Men,
The Toasters,
Wasted Youth,
Albert Ayler,
Country Teasers,
Severed Heads,
Grandmaster Flash,
Surgeon,
OOIOO,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Saccharine Trust,
Ralphi Rosario,
Silicon Teens,
Kayak,
Don Cherry,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Mad Mike,
Angry Samoans,
Jerry's Kids,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
the Soft Cell,
Anthony Braxton,
Pierre Henry,
The Pretty Things,
The Doobie Brothers,
Roxette,
Skaos,
Outsiders,
Godley & Creme,
Eddi Front,
The Fuzztones,
Pantaleimon,
Ultravox,
Vladislav Delay,
This Heat,
Niagra,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.