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 Tunisia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 snare 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 Pierre Henry to the rap 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 David Bowie. All the underground hits.
All Flash Fearless tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mojo Men record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yaz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siglo XX,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
UT,
Second Layer,
Unwound,
ABBA,
D'Angelo,
The Skatalites,
Man Eating Sloth,
Deadbeat,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Royal Trux,
Icehouse,
Henry Cow,
Pierre Henry,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Erasure,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Kenny Larkin,
Jeff Lynne,
Hasil Adkins,
Mars,
Nils Olav,
Heaven 17,
Tubeway Army,
Mantronix,
The Move,
Slick Rick,
MDC,
Faust,
a-ha,
Angry Samoans,
Black Sheep,
Marcia Griffiths,
Grauzone,
Essential Logic,
Shoche,
Toni Rubio,
Rod Modell,
Bobby Byrd,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Anthony Braxton,
Brand Nubian,
The Seeds,
Nik Kershaw,
Half Japanese,
Monks,
Brick,
Zero Boys,
Monolake,
Delon & Dalcan,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Big Daddy Kane,
Khruangbin,
Bobby Womack,
Lou Christie,
Tommy Roe,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Beau Brummels,
Chris Corsano,
The Five Americans,
Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars.
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.