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 Kosovo and from Manila.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Liaisons Dangereuses to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Stooges. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gong record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moby Grape,
Black Bananas,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Trumans Water,
Hashim,
Angry Samoans,
48th St. Collective,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Blake Baxter,
Pantaleimon,
Boogie Down Productions,
Clear Light,
Urselle,
Fugazi,
Minny Pops,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Joe Smooth,
Gil Scott Heron,
Brothers Johnson,
Morten Harket,
The Saints,
Man Parrish,
Rekid,
Pierre Henry,
Aural Exciters,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Dorothy Ashby,
T.S.O.L.,
Banda Bassotti,
Gang Green,
Metal Thangz,
Crash Course in Science,
Scott Walker,
Kerrie Biddell,
John Lydon,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Flesh Eaters,
Yusef Lateef,
Funky Four + One,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Barracudas,
Erasure,
Sam Rivers,
LL Cool J,
Dead Boys,
Radiopuhelimet,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
the Fania All-Stars,
Royal Trux,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jeff Lynne,
Zapp,
Organ,
Nils Olav,
Accadde A,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Cecil Taylor,
Tubeway Army,
Rod Modell,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band.
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.