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 South Sudan and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron 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 48th St. Collective to the funk 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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All The J.B.'s tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faust record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marvin Gaye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flamin' Groovies,
EPMD,
Echospace,
the Soft Cell,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Infiniti,
Flipper,
Slave,
Peter and Kerry,
The Litter,
Eden Ahbez,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Das Ding,
Oblivians,
Roy Ayers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Maleditus Sound,
The Sound,
The Smoke,
Lou Christie,
Supertramp,
The Angels of Light,
Jawbox,
Liliput,
Shoche,
Sixth Finger,
The Move,
Theoretical Girls,
X-102,
Yellowson,
The Pretty Things,
Swans,
Lungfish,
Lyres,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ronnie Foster,
These Immortal Souls,
Matthew Bourne,
Albert Ayler,
Rosa Yemen,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Deadbeat,
Jeff Mills,
Drive Like Jehu,
Tim Buckley,
Ronan,
Grey Daturas,
Brass Construction,
Bluetip,
Deepchord,
Junior Murvin,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Harry Pussy,
Hoover,
Bobby Sherman,
DNA,
Bad Manners,
Rufus Thomas,
Alphaville,
Hasil Adkins,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work.
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.