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 Moldova and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 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 Ajijia Myrayebe to the punk 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 Lydon. All the underground hits.
All Ultra Naté tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fela Kuti 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agitation Free record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Frankie Knuckles,
Television,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Royal Trux,
Susan Cadogan,
Wolf Eyes,
Lightning Bolt,
The Dirtbombs,
the Sonics,
Basic Channel,
Kerrie Biddell,
Eli Mardock,
Ituana,
Kevin Saunderson,
Kenny Larkin,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Scrapy,
Drive Like Jehu,
Arcadia,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Invisible,
Donald Byrd,
Maurizio,
Lou Reed,
Whodini,
Public Enemy,
Public Image Ltd.,
Magma,
Joe Finger,
The Dead C,
Soft Machine,
Porter Ricks,
Patti Smith,
The Count Five,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Big Daddy Kane,
Jimmy McGriff,
Rod Modell,
Bizarre Inc.,
Althea and Donna,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Smoke,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Technova,
Minnie Riperton,
Arthur Verocai,
Bauhaus,
Agent Orange,
Faraquet,
Archie Shepp,
Sex Pistols,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Parry Music,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Yellowson,
New York Dolls,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lower 48,
The Litter,
Roger Hodgson,
Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza.
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.