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 Rwanda 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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Holger Czukay 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Drive Like Jehu. All the underground hits.
All Lee Hazlewood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lafayette Afro Rock Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Circle Jerks,
The United States of America,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Human League,
The Doobie Brothers,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Blackbyrds,
Bush Tetras,
The Black Dice,
Banda Bassotti,
Delta 5,
Suicide,
Brass Construction,
Connie Case,
The Smoke,
The Invisible,
Stiv Bators,
Morten Harket,
Mars,
Faust,
The Fuzztones,
Pantaleimon,
Joy Division,
The Golliwogs,
The Selecter,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Anakelly,
The Saints,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Erasure,
Rapeman,
One Last Wish,
Barbara Tucker,
The Doors,
Mark Hollis,
These Immortal Souls,
Steve Hackett,
Alison Limerick,
The Shadows of Knight,
Rufus Thomas,
The Smiths,
Prince Buster,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Gap Band,
the Swans,
Khruangbin,
Stetsasonic,
Theoretical Girls,
Monolake,
Dead Boys,
David Bowie,
R.M.O.,
The Toasters,
Rites of Spring,
Sandy B,
cv313,
Amon Düül II,
Surgeon,
the Soft Cell,
Tommy Roe,
Darondo, Darondo, Darondo, Darondo.
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.