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 Burkina and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Tropical Tobacco to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Drexciya. All the underground hits.
All Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Misunderstood 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donny Hathaway,
Alice Coltrane,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Josef K,
Magazine,
Lyres,
The Gories,
Symarip,
The Sonics,
The Litter,
Kevin Saunderson,
Wire,
Bootsy Collins,
Zero Boys,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Connie Case,
Nico,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Talk Talk,
Eric Dolphy,
Warren Ellis,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Names,
Wolf Eyes,
Oblivians,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Kinks,
Moebius,
Drive Like Jehu,
Camouflage,
Dead Boys,
Lightning Bolt,
Wings,
Excepter,
Anakelly,
Roxette,
Porter Ricks,
Junior Murvin,
Television Personalities,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The New Christs,
The Remains,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Scrapy,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Tubeway Army,
Eli Mardock,
Unwound,
Marcia Griffiths,
Tropical Tobacco,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sexual Harrassment,
Hot Snakes,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Liliput,
Tomorrow,
The Trojans,
Frankie Knuckles,
Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio.
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.