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 Mali and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 arpeggiator 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the funk 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 Audionom. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mary Jane Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yellowson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Roxette,
Sam Rivers,
Yazoo,
Visage,
Bad Manners,
Pierre Henry,
Wire,
Kayak,
T.S.O.L.,
Flash Fearless,
The Slits,
Yusef Lateef,
OOIOO,
The Five Americans,
Oblivians,
Skarface,
MC5,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sun Ra,
Unrelated Segments,
Pharoah Sanders,
Stiv Bators,
A Certain Ratio,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Intrusion,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Saccharine Trust,
Masters at Work,
The Fugs,
Black Moon,
Grauzone,
Al Stewart,
Cal Tjader,
Mission of Burma,
The Fire Engines,
Sun City Girls,
Neil Young,
F. McDonald,
Inner City,
Excepter,
Soft Cell,
48th St. Collective,
Alice Coltrane,
Trumans Water,
Tears for Fears,
Electric Prunes,
Laurel Aitken,
Monolake,
Goldenarms,
Soulsonic Force,
Lyres,
The Red Krayola,
Marmalade,
Barrington Levy,
Metal Thangz,
Bootsy Collins,
Tubeway Army,
The Detroit Cobras,
Lakeside,
Barry Ungar,
Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones.
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.