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 Andorra and from Spokane.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Moleskins 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 Chrome. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Smog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
Scrapy,
Leonard Cohen,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gichy Dan,
The Searchers,
Babytalk,
Second Layer,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Yellowson,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Supertramp,
Neil Young,
T. Rex,
Fugazi,
Arthur Verocai,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Slits,
Brick,
Bad Manners,
Arab on Radar,
F. McDonald,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Gun Club,
Public Enemy,
Parry Music,
The Monks,
This Heat,
Flash Fearless,
Schoolly D,
The Slackers,
Junior Murvin,
Reuben Wilson,
The Zeros,
the Soft Cell,
Goldenarms,
B.T. Express,
Whodini,
Barry Ungar,
The Birthday Party,
Byron Stingily,
Letta Mbulu,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Au Pairs,
the Association,
Charles Mingus,
Von Mondo,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Scan 7,
Idris Muhammad,
Skriet,
Man Parrish,
Stetsasonic,
The Leaves,
The Gladiators,
Rites of Spring,
The Modern Lovers,
Little Man,
Funky Four + One,
Malaria!,
Franke, Franke, Franke, Franke.
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.