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 Bahamas and from Woodstock.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 rhodes 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 Fat Boys to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sly & The Family Stone. All the underground hits.
All Sunsets and Hearts tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funkadelic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Little Man record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glenn Branca,
The Electric Prunes,
Gang of Four,
The Fall,
H. Thieme,
Ornette Coleman,
John Holt,
The Dead C,
Das Ding,
This Heat,
Marmalade,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Aural Exciters,
Unrelated Segments,
Ronan,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Cymande,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The American Breed,
The Monochrome Set,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Neon Judgement,
Man Parrish,
Amazonics,
Skriet,
T. Rex,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
A Certain Ratio,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Joe Finger,
ABBA,
Guru Guru,
Echospace,
New Order,
China Crisis,
Soul II Soul,
Toni Rubio,
Slick Rick,
Stockholm Monsters,
Hardrive,
Tropical Tobacco,
Subhumans,
Gregory Isaacs,
Glambeats Corp.,
The J.B.'s,
Fad Gadget,
Suicide,
Banda Bassotti,
The Last Poets,
Mary Jane Girls,
Althea and Donna,
Malaria!,
June Days,
Yaz,
The Techniques,
These Immortal Souls,
The Stooges,
Alison Limerick,
Heaven 17,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Divine Comedy,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.