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 Bhutan and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 Michael McDonald 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 Leonard Cohen to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Marshall Jefferson. All the underground hits.
All Cabaret Voltaire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Byron Stingily record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blackbyrds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marmalade,
Franke,
Tom Boy,
The Real Kids,
Los Fastidios,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Leaves,
The Mummies,
Aswad,
Crispian St. Peters,
Marine Girls,
Audionom,
Anakelly,
Gang Green,
The Walker Brothers,
Cluster,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Amon Düül,
Arthur Verocai,
The Flesh Eaters,
These Immortal Souls,
The Raincoats,
Alison Limerick,
Basic Channel,
Panda Bear,
Metal Thangz,
Rakim,
Faust,
Rosa Yemen,
Eddi Front,
Judy Mowatt,
Nico,
Andrew Hill,
Motorama,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Arab on Radar,
Moss Icon,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Drexciya,
Amon Düül II,
Kaleidoscope,
Grandmaster Flash,
Skaos,
Leonard Cohen,
Johnny Clarke,
Intrusion,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
the Sonics,
Brass Construction,
Bizarre Inc.,
Don Cherry,
Lou Christie,
Wings,
Warsaw,
Swell Maps,
Gastr Del Sol,
Essential Logic,
Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler.
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.