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 Liechtenstein and from Calgary.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 synthesizer 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 Country Joe & The Fish to the jazz 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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Beasts of Bourbon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pantytec record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Human League,
The Kinks,
Piero Umiliani,
Drexciya,
Khruangbin,
Simply Red,
The Blues Magoos,
Matthew Bourne,
Sex Pistols,
The Neon Judgement,
Bauhaus,
Delon & Dalcan,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Jeff Mills,
K-Klass,
Eric Copeland,
Tears for Fears,
Slave,
Avey Tare,
Rosa Yemen,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Terry Callier,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bush Tetras,
Country Teasers,
Massinfluence,
The Mojo Men,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Bluetip,
The Modern Lovers,
Bobby Byrd,
Accadde A,
Anakelly,
Arab on Radar,
Graham Central Station,
The Divine Comedy,
X-Ray Spex,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Alison Limerick,
Barbara Tucker,
Popol Vuh,
Roger Hodgson,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Ultra Naté,
Nirvana,
L. Decosne,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Smog,
Big Daddy Kane,
Jandek,
Danielle Patucci,
The Toasters,
Masters at Work,
Tubeway Army,
8 Eyed Spy,
Cal Tjader,
Funky Four + One,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Blossom Toes,
Average White Band,
The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings.
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.