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 Monaco and from Winnipeg.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 organ 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 Sugar Minott to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All The Golliwogs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eden Ahbez 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 a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric Dolphy,
The Detroit Cobras,
the Sonics,
The Saints,
Delta 5,
The Smiths,
Circle Jerks,
Dennis Brown,
Pharoah Sanders,
Delon & Dalcan,
Talk Talk,
New York Dolls,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Aural Exciters,
Bootsy Collins,
Minutemen,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Todd Terry,
Scientists,
Lou Christie,
Funkadelic,
Tres Demented,
Lalo Schifrin,
Lakeside,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Al Stewart,
Lou Reed,
Interpol,
Blossom Toes,
Public Image Ltd.,
Goldenarms,
kango's stein massive,
Quantec,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
T.S.O.L.,
The Blues Magoos,
Jeru the Damaja,
Matthew Bourne,
FM Einheit,
OOIOO,
Smog,
Whodini,
Sun City Girls,
Gil Scott Heron,
Guru Guru,
Outsiders,
Fugazi,
Anakelly,
Moby Grape,
Mission of Burma,
The Happenings,
Motorama,
Fatback Band,
Donald Byrd,
Alison Limerick,
Royal Trux,
China Crisis,
Leonard Cohen,
Traffic Nightmare,
Roxy Music,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.