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 Ukraine and from Sao Paulo.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Duran Duran to the rap 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 The Gories. All the underground hits.
All Massinfluence tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rekid 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Hutcherson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Dead Boys,
the Swans,
Interpol,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Monks,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Desert Stars,
Radiohead,
X-101,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Eurythmics,
Blancmange,
Delta 5,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Qualms,
Davy DMX,
Basic Channel,
Robert Wyatt,
The Cure,
Barry Ungar,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Pere Ubu,
Gichy Dan,
Crispian St. Peters,
Brass Construction,
Make Up,
The Fortunes,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Smoke,
48th St. Collective,
The Gap Band,
Connie Case,
Half Japanese,
Barbara Tucker,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Wally Richardson,
Ronan,
Crash Course in Science,
Soft Cell,
Drive Like Jehu,
Main Source,
Flash Fearless,
Fela Kuti,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Alison Limerick,
Crispy Ambulance,
Maleditus Sound,
The Neon Judgement,
Buzzcocks,
Sparks,
Rosa Yemen,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Suburban Knight,
Electric Prunes,
Faraquet,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Second Layer,
E-Dancer,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Parry Music,
Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band.
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.