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 France and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Gastr Del Sol to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick May record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Happenings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Modern Lovers,
Hoover,
The Searchers,
Pere Ubu,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Eric Dolphy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Connie Case,
Prince Buster,
Harry Pussy,
Kevin Saunderson,
Goldenarms,
Steve Hackett,
Scrapy,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Kinks,
Porter Ricks,
Ultravox,
Neil Young,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Black Flag,
Graham Central Station,
Delta 5,
Groovy Waters,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Icehouse,
Wire,
Yellowson,
The Mojo Men,
Mission of Burma,
Radio Birdman,
Public Enemy,
Robert Görl,
Buzzcocks,
Negative Approach,
Vainqueur,
Average White Band,
Au Pairs,
Black Sheep,
Mr. Review,
The Toasters,
The Wake,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Kas Product,
Eurythmics,
Gil Scott Heron,
Q and Not U,
Flash Fearless,
Easy Going,
World's Most,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pole,
The Misunderstood,
Blancmange,
Wally Richardson,
The Seeds,
Lucky Dragons,
T. Rex,
Scientists,
Lalann,
Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger.
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.