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 Malaysia and from New York.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 sitar 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 Soul II Soul to the techno 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 The Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All The Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock 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 theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liaisons Dangereuses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet 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 Divine Comedy,
Malaria!,
The Tremeloes,
June of 44,
Kayak,
Stetsasonic,
The Sonics,
Glenn Branca,
Mantronix,
In Retrospect,
Tom Boy,
Pagans,
Organ,
Amon Düül,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Janne Schatter,
Pere Ubu,
Sun Ra,
Warsaw,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
DNA,
Charles Mingus,
Heaven 17,
Marine Girls,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Isaac Hayes,
Kevin Saunderson,
Barry Ungar,
Terry Callier,
Soulsonic Force,
Angry Samoans,
Sonic Youth,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Delon & Dalcan,
Interpol,
Letta Mbulu,
Bill Wells,
T. Rex,
Sixth Finger,
Spandau Ballet,
One Last Wish,
48th St. Collective,
Sugar Minott,
Wally Richardson,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Black Pus,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Slackers,
Sarah Menescal,
Tubeway Army,
Brand Nubian,
U.S. Maple,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sister Nancy,
Loose Ends,
Jesper Dahlback,
Harry Pussy,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T.
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.