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 Equatorial Guinea and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All Make Up tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every L. Decosne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin 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 clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Gang Dance,
Mandrill,
Big Daddy Kane,
Tommy Roe,
Iggy Pop,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Techniques,
Ossler,
Amon Düül,
Crime,
Ronan,
The Blues Magoos,
T. Rex,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Rekid,
Warren Ellis,
Jawbox,
the Normal,
the Fania All-Stars,
Crooked Eye,
Yusef Lateef,
Tom Boy,
The Tremeloes,
Magma,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Duran Duran,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Bronski Beat,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Dirtbombs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Infiniti,
Nico,
Spoonie Gee,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Music Machine,
Faraquet,
Rufus Thomas,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ten City,
Marshall Jefferson,
London Community Gospel Choir,
the Slits,
Country Teasers,
John Coltrane,
Siglo XX,
The Blackbyrds,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Five Americans,
Monolake,
KRS-One,
Young Marble Giants,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Skatalites,
Vladislav Delay,
Jandek,
Zapp,
Al Stewart,
The Knickerbockers,
Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry.
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.