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 Costa Rica and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 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 Crooked Eye to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Zapp. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gong record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Second Layer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Terry,
The Tremeloes,
The Toasters,
Con Funk Shun,
Infiniti,
the Normal,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Echospace,
Ultimate Spinach,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
London Community Gospel Choir,
DJ Sneak,
Vladislav Delay,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Gil Scott Heron,
Deadbeat,
Rapeman,
Radiohead,
Basic Channel,
The Mojo Men,
Moby Grape,
E-Dancer,
Quando Quango,
Rites of Spring,
Cymande,
Arthur Verocai,
Sandy B,
Magazine,
48th St. Collective,
the Association,
The Techniques,
Clear Light,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Underground Resistance,
Liliput,
Mantronix,
Loose Ends,
Television Personalities,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mo-Dettes,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Dead Boys,
Crash Course in Science,
The Moody Blues,
Ohio Players,
Gong,
Bootsy Collins,
Steve Hackett,
Symarip,
Avey Tare,
David Bowie,
Grauzone,
The Velvet Underground,
Sun City Girls,
Hot Snakes,
Yaz,
Ornette Coleman,
The Standells,
Juan Atkins,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Niagra, Niagra, Niagra, Niagra.
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.