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 Papua New Guinea and from Accra.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the marimba 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 Offenders to the grime 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 Bad Manners. All the underground hits.
All B.T. Express tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pole record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Happenings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Osbourne,
The Mummies,
Panda Bear,
Severed Heads,
A Certain Ratio,
X-101,
Excepter,
The Count Five,
Cheater Slicks,
the Swans,
Wally Richardson,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
U.S. Maple,
Tropical Tobacco,
MC5,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pharoah Sanders,
Arthur Verocai,
Bill Wells,
Deadbeat,
Mark Hollis,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Donald Byrd,
Bronski Beat,
Unrelated Segments,
Lyres,
Second Layer,
The Red Krayola,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Leaves,
Mandrill,
Radio Birdman,
June Days,
Eve St. Jones,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Harry Pussy,
Siglo XX,
Tears for Fears,
Delta 5,
Neil Young,
Joy Division,
Anthony Braxton,
Jacques Brel,
Sexual Harrassment,
Slave,
Byron Stingily,
DNA,
Soul Sonic Force,
Q and Not U,
Masters at Work,
Avey Tare,
Essential Logic,
Oblivians,
The New Christs,
Arab on Radar,
Alice Coltrane,
Tom Boy,
Icehouse,
Loose Ends,
The Durutti Column,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi.
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.