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 Turkey and from Sao Paulo.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Buckinghams to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 D'Angelo. All the underground hits.
All Black Pus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Görl record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hardrive,
Eden Ahbez,
The Neon Judgement,
Cheater Slicks,
Loose Ends,
Funkadelic,
Technova,
Fat Boys,
Swans,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Camouflage,
Joyce Sims,
Ituana,
Japan,
Minutemen,
Trumans Water,
Howard Jones,
Tears for Fears,
Eli Mardock,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Mummies,
Cal Tjader,
10cc,
Inner City,
Boogie Down Productions,
ABBA,
Television,
David Axelrod,
Aaron Thompson,
Flamin' Groovies,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Alton Ellis,
Gang Starr,
the Bar-Kays,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Electric Prunes,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Saccharine Trust,
Nation of Ulysses,
Soul II Soul,
The Detroit Cobras,
Amazonics,
Bill Wells,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Accadde A,
The Shadows of Knight,
Scientists,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bizarre Inc.,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ken Boothe,
Jimmy McGriff,
the Soft Cell,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Barry Ungar,
Bush Tetras,
Camberwell Now,
Kurtis Blow,
Jesper Dahlback,
Urselle,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.