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 Ivory Coast and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Rhythim Is Rhythim to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Ossler. All the underground hits.
All Reagan Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Severed Heads record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bluetip,
Desert Stars,
48th St. Collective,
Pere Ubu,
Ice-T,
Henry Cow,
Roger Hodgson,
Sight & Sound,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sarah Menescal,
Kerrie Biddell,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sun City Girls,
The Pretty Things,
Byron Stingily,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Althea and Donna,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Warsaw,
Accadde A,
The Beau Brummels,
Crash Course in Science,
Metal Thangz,
The Fortunes,
Boogie Down Productions,
Hot Snakes,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sällskapet,
Grauzone,
Arab on Radar,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Techniques,
Eric B and Rakim,
Archie Shepp,
Visage,
The New Christs,
Arthur Verocai,
Jacques Brel,
Kas Product,
Barbara Tucker,
The Neon Judgement,
Delon & Dalcan,
Pussy Galore,
The Monks,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Jeru the Damaja,
Y Pants,
Harmonia,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Can,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
David McCallum,
Wire,
Scratch Acid,
Swans,
Silicon Teens,
X-102,
Gabor Szabo,
Big Daddy Kane,
Isaac Hayes,
Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith.
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.