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 Tanzania and from Toronto.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
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 the Bar-Kays to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Dennis Brown tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones 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 güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arab on Radar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bobby Womack,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Marc Almond,
Altered Images,
Sandy B,
Sex Pistols,
Bang On A Can,
Nils Olav,
Angry Samoans,
The Remains,
Alice Coltrane,
Deakin,
Flash Fearless,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Cramps,
Desert Stars,
John Foxx,
Pharoah Sanders,
Moebius,
Khruangbin,
The Last Poets,
Quadrant,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Agent Orange,
AZ,
A Certain Ratio,
Television Personalities,
The Detroit Cobras,
Hot Snakes,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Joyce Sims,
Jeff Lynne,
Easy Going,
Avey Tare,
Isaac Hayes,
Yaz,
Arab on Radar,
Jacques Brel,
the Sonics,
kango's stein massive,
Dual Sessions,
Underground Resistance,
Goldenarms,
The Cure,
Scratch Acid,
Peter & Gordon,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Misunderstood,
Lou Christie,
Camouflage,
Sun City Girls,
Eden Ahbez,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Star Department,
Brick,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Fall,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Echospace,
Crispian St. Peters,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan.
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.