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 Liechtenstein and from Philadelphia.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the clarinet 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 The Blackbyrds to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Ash Ra Tempel. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Parry Music record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
Swell Maps,
Faraquet,
Mad Mike,
The Flesh Eaters,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Alice Coltrane,
8 Eyed Spy,
Hardrive,
F. McDonald,
The Last Poets,
Make Up,
The Slackers,
Oneida,
Gang Starr,
Jerry's Kids,
Wolf Eyes,
Pantaleimon,
Maleditus Sound,
Soulsonic Force,
Flash Fearless,
Hot Snakes,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
U.S. Maple,
The Fuzztones,
Terry Callier,
Eve St. Jones,
Howard Jones,
Guru Guru,
Judy Mowatt,
Gabor Szabo,
The Neon Judgement,
Sixth Finger,
Bill Wells,
The Index,
Circle Jerks,
Marine Girls,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Man Eating Sloth,
Jimmy McGriff,
Peter & Gordon,
Ronnie Foster,
The American Breed,
Drive Like Jehu,
Parry Music,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Colin Newman,
Bad Manners,
Black Pus,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Black Dice,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Fugs,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Ultra Naté,
Desert Stars,
Jeff Mills,
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.