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 Madagascar and from Beijing.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Busters to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Matthew Halsall. All the underground hits.
All Mission of Burma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fad Gadget record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pulsallama,
The Smiths,
Eve St. Jones,
The Gun Club,
Accadde A,
The Happenings,
Grey Daturas,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Dave Clark Five,
Surgeon,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Basic Channel,
Jandek,
Qualms,
The Alarm Clocks,
Terry Callier,
Nils Olav,
New Age Steppers,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Scientists,
Hasil Adkins,
Mr. Review,
Freddie Wadling,
The Doobie Brothers,
Joe Finger,
Cybotron,
Charles Mingus,
Soft Machine,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Toasters,
Magazine,
Niagra,
The Cowsills,
The Dead C,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Cramps,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Nirvana,
The Black Dice,
Bush Tetras,
Massinfluence,
the Soft Cell,
Wire,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Durutti Column,
Country Teasers,
Swell Maps,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Magma,
Lou Christie,
Joy Division,
Y Pants,
The Fall,
The Residents,
Duran Duran,
The Monochrome Set,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
D'Angelo,
Grauzone,
Supertramp,
Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest.
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.