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 Bulgaria and from Accra.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 Michael McDonald 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 Wings to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Offenders. All the underground hits.
All H. Thieme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Velvet Underground record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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 Saints,
David McCallum,
Vladislav Delay,
Agent Orange,
Gang Green,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
CMW,
Hashim,
Ice-T,
The Wake,
Blancmange,
Theoretical Girls,
X-Ray Spex,
Porter Ricks,
Ronnie Foster,
The New Christs,
Jeff Mills,
Rakim,
Harry Pussy,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Harpers Bizarre,
Chrome,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Technova,
Shoche,
Sonic Youth,
Juan Atkins,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Kenny Larkin,
8 Eyed Spy,
In Retrospect,
the Human League,
Wolf Eyes,
Man Parrish,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Swans,
Severed Heads,
Leonard Cohen,
Darondo,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Sexual Harrassment,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Slick Rick,
John Lydon,
Boz Scaggs,
Danielle Patucci,
Pere Ubu,
The Smiths,
Radiohead,
Todd Terry,
Jandek,
Toni Rubio,
Kas Product,
The Durutti Column,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Icehouse,
Laurel Aitken,
a-ha,
Jimmy McGriff,
Avey Tare,
Josef K, Josef K, Josef K, Josef K.
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.