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 Congo and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Salvador.
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 rhodes 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 Eric Copeland to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Flamin' Groovies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doors 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Metal Thangz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Normal,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Real Kids,
Amon Düül II,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Minnie Riperton,
Hashim,
Adolescents,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
John Coltrane,
The Barracudas,
David Axelrod,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Wolf Eyes,
Glambeats Corp.,
Metal Thangz,
Magazine,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Banda Bassotti,
Jerry's Kids,
Susan Cadogan,
Tim Buckley,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Rotary Connection,
Maleditus Sound,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Young Rascals,
Nico,
Bobby Womack,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Freddie Wadling,
Public Image Ltd.,
Eric B and Rakim,
Technova,
Vainqueur,
Deakin,
Jeff Lynne,
Neil Young,
Pere Ubu,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Dawn Penn,
Nik Kershaw,
Jeff Mills,
These Immortal Souls,
Camouflage,
Ituana,
Pantytec,
Depeche Mode,
Infiniti,
Pussy Galore,
The Cramps,
Skaos,
Monks,
New Age Steppers,
Cecil Taylor,
Los Fastidios,
Siglo XX,
Roxette,
Symarip,
Joensuu 1685,
Talk Talk,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.