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 Belize and from Glasgow.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
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 James White and The Blacks to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Minor Threat. All the underground hits.
All Judy Mowatt 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 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 linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Franke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
Can,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Mantronix,
Boogie Down Productions,
Dark Day,
The Electric Prunes,
Moss Icon,
Byron Stingily,
Jeff Lynne,
Eden Ahbez,
Average White Band,
Jacques Brel,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Hoover,
Mars,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Urselle,
Dennis Brown,
John Foxx,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ponytail,
Quantec,
KRS-One,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Joe Finger,
Desert Stars,
Jacob Miller,
Harry Pussy,
New York Dolls,
Fela Kuti,
Cheater Slicks,
Camouflage,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sister Nancy,
Black Flag,
The Velvet Underground,
Warsaw,
Basic Channel,
Piero Umiliani,
Young Marble Giants,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Monks,
The Human League,
Aural Exciters,
Lyres,
Marc Almond,
Gang Green,
The Real Kids,
Sparks,
Arcadia,
Pharoah Sanders,
Tropical Tobacco,
Severed Heads,
Swell Maps,
Marcia Griffiths,
Television Personalities,
Porter Ricks,
John Cale,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gong,
Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes.
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.