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 Swaziland and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 güiro 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 Suicide to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Skaos. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage 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 a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Piero Umiliani,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Johnny Clarke,
The Birthday Party,
Wally Richardson,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Simply Red,
Funky Four + One,
Wasted Youth,
The Misunderstood,
MDC,
ABBA,
Davy DMX,
Minor Threat,
PIL,
Minnie Riperton,
Pere Ubu,
The Smoke,
Throbbing Gristle,
Mad Mike,
Lee Hazlewood,
Los Fastidios,
Cymande,
Scion,
Circle Jerks,
Unrelated Segments,
Mo-Dettes,
Sam Rivers,
Eve St. Jones,
Nico,
Sun City Girls,
Mission of Burma,
Nik Kershaw,
Youth Brigade,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The American Breed,
The Toasters,
Sex Pistols,
David McCallum,
the Human League,
Blossom Toes,
Television Personalities,
Ultra Naté,
Thee Headcoats,
the Slits,
Symarip,
Monolake,
Barbara Tucker,
Connie Case,
the Association,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Deepchord,
The Index,
Scan 7,
Lower 48,
Spoonie Gee,
Sällskapet,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Motions,
Angry Samoans,
Aural Exciters,
Kool Moe Dee,
Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes.
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.