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 Niger and from Bremen.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 marimba 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Absolute Body Control tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Absolute Body Control record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Sherman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warsaw,
Flash Fearless,
Gil Scott Heron,
Mark Hollis,
Fugazi,
The Cure,
Lebanon Hanover,
Rekid,
the Germs,
Donald Byrd,
Moss Icon,
Mary Jane Girls,
Boogie Down Productions,
Letta Mbulu,
Steve Hackett,
Liliput,
Marmalade,
Morten Harket,
Tubeway Army,
Accadde A,
Moby Grape,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lower 48,
Rhythm & Sound,
Eve St. Jones,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Boz Scaggs,
Whodini,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Max Romeo,
Parry Music,
Alice Coltrane,
Slick Rick,
Gichy Dan,
Frankie Knuckles,
The American Breed,
The Index,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Martian,
Scott Walker,
Banda Bassotti,
Make Up,
Joensuu 1685,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Johnny Clarke,
Guru Guru,
The Shadows of Knight,
Qualms,
Cluster,
Sight & Sound,
Zapp,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Durutti Column,
Camberwell Now,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Marc Almond,
Eli Mardock,
Icehouse,
The Names,
Reagan Youth, Reagan Youth, Reagan Youth, Reagan Youth.
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.