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 Italy and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Babytalk to the rap 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 John Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Sister Nancy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines 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?
Motorama,
ABBA,
Drexciya,
a-ha,
U.S. Maple,
Oneida,
Skarface,
Goldenarms,
The Shadows of Knight,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Wake,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Marshall Jefferson,
Clear Light,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bad Manners,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Organ,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
X-102,
The Sound,
Hashim,
Ultravox,
Ice-T,
Joe Finger,
the Swans,
Freddie Wadling,
The Zeros,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
the Soft Cell,
Alphaville,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lindisfarne,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Hasil Adkins,
Mandrill,
Stockholm Monsters,
Kaleidoscope,
Jeff Mills,
Eden Ahbez,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Saccharine Trust,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Sister Nancy,
The Litter,
Dawn Penn,
Todd Rundgren,
The Sonics,
Nirvana,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Anakelly,
These Immortal Souls,
Minnie Riperton,
K-Klass,
Wolf Eyes,
The Pretty Things,
Pussy Galore,
The Birthday Party,
Grandmaster Flash,
Essential Logic,
Black Sheep,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.