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 Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Davy DMX to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Half Japanese. All the underground hits.
All Shuggie Otis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camberwell Now 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Zapp,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Tomorrow,
The Cure,
The Trojans,
The Stooges,
The Doors,
8 Eyed Spy,
Cymande,
Tim Buckley,
Rotary Connection,
Yusef Lateef,
Newcleus,
Sixth Finger,
Girls At Our Best!,
Oblivians,
Can,
Grauzone,
Soft Cell,
Joensuu 1685,
The Slits,
The Names,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Cecil Taylor,
The New Christs,
Yellowson,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Barracudas,
The J.B.'s,
Sex Pistols,
The Cramps,
Iggy Pop,
Bobby Sherman,
Moby Grape,
Fat Boys,
Drive Like Jehu,
Erasure,
the Swans,
Pagans,
Eddi Front,
Stiv Bators,
Nik Kershaw,
Country Teasers,
ABC,
a-ha,
Jacob Miller,
Howard Jones,
Drexciya,
Electric Prunes,
Ossler,
Anakelly,
The Dave Clark Five,
Cameo,
Slave,
The American Breed,
Danielle Patucci,
Hashim,
Shuggie Otis,
Blake Baxter,
Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn.
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.