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 Rwanda and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 arpeggiator 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 The Slits to the rock 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All The Victims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Standells,
The Residents,
Absolute Body Control,
Goldenarms,
Average White Band,
Blake Baxter,
Camouflage,
Neu!,
E-Dancer,
Underground Resistance,
Donald Byrd,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Rosa Yemen,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The American Breed,
Robert Wyatt,
These Immortal Souls,
The Fugs,
Prince Buster,
ABC,
Letta Mbulu,
Sex Pistols,
Wolf Eyes,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Ten City,
Saccharine Trust,
Crooked Eye,
Frankie Knuckles,
Terrestrial Tones,
Inner City,
Darondo,
The Shadows of Knight,
Roger Hodgson,
Model 500,
Scratch Acid,
Arcadia,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Brick,
Marvin Gaye,
Don Cherry,
Kool Moe Dee,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Severed Heads,
Sound Behaviour,
Anthony Braxton,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Deakin,
Main Source,
Kevin Saunderson,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Count Five,
Sällskapet,
DJ Sneak,
Amon Düül,
The Moody Blues,
The Barracudas,
Erasure,
Hashim,
Country Teasers,
Ohio Players,
Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker.
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.