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 Guatemala and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Fuzztones to the electroclash 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 Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All the Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Das Ding record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron 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 marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lightning Bolt,
Lower 48,
Unwound,
Suicide,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Remains,
Gabor Szabo,
K-Klass,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Mission of Burma,
Rapeman,
John Coltrane,
Fluxion,
the Normal,
Howard Jones,
Harpers Bizarre,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Khruangbin,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Graham Central Station,
Stockholm Monsters,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Metal Thangz,
Faraquet,
Ornette Coleman,
X-102,
X-Ray Spex,
Ronan,
The Slackers,
Todd Terry,
Babytalk,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Chris & Cosey,
Gang Gang Dance,
Boogie Down Productions,
R.M.O.,
Sister Nancy,
Ken Boothe,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Roger Hodgson,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sonic Youth,
Grey Daturas,
Sexual Harrassment,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Martian,
Saccharine Trust,
Crooked Eye,
Man Eating Sloth,
Dawn Penn,
Camberwell Now,
Guru Guru,
Royal Trux,
Joey Negro,
This Heat,
Thee Headcoats,
Robert Wyatt,
The Evens,
Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat.
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.