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 Australia and from Houston.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Cecil Taylor to the grunge 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 Fela Kuti. All the underground hits.
All A Flock of Seagulls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David McCallum record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slave,
Scientists,
Eric Dolphy,
The Searchers,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Johnny Clarke,
Bizarre Inc.,
Bill Wells,
Roxette,
The Buckinghams,
Cybotron,
Crispian St. Peters,
Derrick Morgan,
The Moleskins,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lucky Dragons,
Roger Hodgson,
Bobby Byrd,
The Misunderstood,
Eve St. Jones,
Fear,
Rosa Yemen,
The Fall,
Gregory Isaacs,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
John Lydon,
Jawbox,
Ultravox,
Cal Tjader,
Pantytec,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Arthur Verocai,
Kool Moe Dee,
Circle Jerks,
Arab on Radar,
Little Man,
Howard Jones,
Faraquet,
Brick,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Motorama,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
the Swans,
Susan Cadogan,
Marmalade,
Eric Copeland,
Sparks,
Adolescents,
Funky Four + One,
Fugazi,
Lightning Bolt,
Scratch Acid,
Ponytail,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Move,
Parry Music,
Suburban Knight,
Brand Nubian,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ornette Coleman,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.