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 Argentina and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Michael McDonald 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 Radio Birdman to the techno 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All B.T. Express tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gories 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Outsiders,
The Gun Club,
OOIOO,
Moebius,
The Toasters,
Pylon,
Albert Ayler,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Electric Prunes,
The Fortunes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Pretty Things,
The Invisible,
Robert Wyatt,
Freddie Wadling,
Dawn Penn,
Y Pants,
the Normal,
Lungfish,
Rekid,
In Retrospect,
Blake Baxter,
Bob Dylan,
Rotary Connection,
Au Pairs,
Zapp,
China Crisis,
Jawbox,
Con Funk Shun,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Velvet Underground,
The Birthday Party,
The Sound,
Rod Modell,
The Alarm Clocks,
Shuggie Otis,
The Black Dice,
the Slits,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Motions,
Darondo,
David Axelrod,
Yellowson,
Pantaleimon,
Alphaville,
Ten City,
Rakim,
Gang of Four,
Quadrant,
Terrestrial Tones,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Five Americans,
Technova,
Danielle Patucci, Danielle Patucci, Danielle Patucci, Danielle Patucci.
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.