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 Comoros and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The Pretty Things to the techno 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 Pharoah Sanders. All the underground hits.
All The Monochrome Set tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Holt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sly & The Family Stone,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Names,
X-Ray Spex,
Jimmy McGriff,
the Sonics,
Judy Mowatt,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Robert Görl,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Stereo Dub,
The Flesh Eaters,
Unwound,
Jerry's Kids,
The Fugs,
Bob Dylan,
Adolescents,
Main Source,
The Gun Club,
Fugazi,
Whodini,
Babytalk,
The Young Rascals,
Ice-T,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Andrew Hill,
Barry Ungar,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Magazine,
Boredoms,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Tremeloes,
Minny Pops,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Tears for Fears,
The Alarm Clocks,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lebanon Hanover,
Robert Hood,
MDC,
In Retrospect,
Idris Muhammad,
Gang Gang Dance,
Gregory Isaacs,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Cheater Slicks,
Livin' Joy,
Marcia Griffiths,
Hoover,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Moss Icon,
Wings,
James White and The Blacks,
Crime,
Agitation Free,
Faraquet,
Quantec,
The Wake,
Nico,
Sam Rivers,
Fela Kuti,
The Doors,
Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti.
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.