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 Swaziland and from Woodstock.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Crooked Eye to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Todd Terry. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every R.M.O. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sparks,
The Skatalites,
Absolute Body Control,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Selecter,
Terry Callier,
Y Pants,
Ohio Players,
Blancmange,
Parry Music,
K-Klass,
The Divine Comedy,
Glambeats Corp.,
Oneida,
Hashim,
Nico,
Suicide,
Monks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Isaac Hayes,
The Names,
The Gories,
Jacob Miller,
The Kinks,
The Offenders,
Negative Approach,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Fluxion,
Man Eating Sloth,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Black Moon,
Scientists,
Japan,
The Remains,
Big Daddy Kane,
Eve St. Jones,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Mantronix,
Basic Channel,
the Bar-Kays,
Minny Pops,
Idris Muhammad,
Mission of Burma,
Wally Richardson,
The Toasters,
Maleditus Sound,
Amon Düül II,
The Moleskins,
The Tremeloes,
The Buckinghams,
Judy Mowatt,
Babytalk,
Grandmaster Flash,
Buzzcocks,
The Dead C,
John Holt,
Sällskapet,
Deakin,
Aswad,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Desert Stars,
Bronski Beat,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.