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 Zambia and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 chamberlin 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 Slits to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Fear. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric B and Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Qualms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Scan 7,
The Pretty Things,
The Names,
Grandmaster Flash,
Little Man,
Dead Boys,
The Electric Prunes,
Joensuu 1685,
Nirvana,
Vainqueur,
Bob Dylan,
Gastr Del Sol,
Wolf Eyes,
Minor Threat,
The Fortunes,
EPMD,
Theoretical Girls,
Sparks,
Nas,
H. Thieme,
Oneida,
Robert Görl,
Rotary Connection,
Warsaw,
Television,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Supertramp,
Rakim,
Talk Talk,
Main Source,
The Index,
Aloha Tigers,
The Stooges,
The Golliwogs,
Loose Ends,
Laurel Aitken,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Glambeats Corp.,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Boogie Down Productions,
Barbara Tucker,
The Neon Judgement,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Stiv Bators,
Suburban Knight,
David Bowie,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Fire Engines,
The J.B.'s,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Circle Jerks,
Simply Red,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Spoonie Gee,
Barclay James Harvest,
Excepter,
Essential Logic,
Blancmange,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Reagan Youth,
The Moody Blues,
Youth Brigade,
A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio.
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.