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 Venezuela and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Charles Mingus to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Flash Fearless. All the underground hits.
All The New Christs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Divine Comedy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric Copeland,
Joyce Sims,
Pere Ubu,
Tomorrow,
Toni Rubio,
The Selecter,
Newcleus,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sexual Harrassment,
Henry Cow,
Black Flag,
Roy Ayers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sun Ra,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Crispy Ambulance,
X-Ray Spex,
Procol Harum,
kango's stein massive,
Bush Tetras,
Essential Logic,
Girls At Our Best!,
Inner City,
Brick,
Andrew Hill,
Public Enemy,
The Zeros,
The Count Five,
Freddie Wadling,
F. McDonald,
Nick Fraelich,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Smiths,
The New Christs,
Gang Green,
Pole,
The Cowsills,
Deakin,
Schoolly D,
Chris & Cosey,
Eli Mardock,
The Grass Roots,
the Slits,
Graham Central Station,
The Evens,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bobby Womack,
Eden Ahbez,
Desert Stars,
Eve St. Jones,
Albert Ayler,
Scan 7,
Goldenarms,
Scott Walker,
The Victims,
Colin Newman,
Fugazi,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Massinfluence,
The Doobie Brothers,
Lyres,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars.
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.