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 Luxembourg and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Mark Hollis to the dance 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 Rhythm & Sound. All the underground hits.
All David McCallum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Order 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Todd Rundgren record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Colin Newman,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bootsy Collins,
Grandmaster Flash,
Cybotron,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
the Sonics,
Patti Smith,
The Kinks,
Derrick May,
Hot Snakes,
Piero Umiliani,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Faraquet,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
X-Ray Spex,
Skaos,
Monks,
Black Bananas,
Lakeside,
Ten City,
The Flesh Eaters,
Icehouse,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ronnie Foster,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Brick,
Minnie Riperton,
Trumans Water,
Nirvana,
Saccharine Trust,
Los Fastidios,
The Barracudas,
X-102,
These Immortal Souls,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Thee Headcoats,
This Heat,
Accadde A,
Scan 7,
The Last Poets,
The Real Kids,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Danielle Patucci,
Oblivians,
Simply Red,
David Bowie,
T.S.O.L.,
Pole,
The Gap Band,
Con Funk Shun,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Monks,
Hasil Adkins,
Max Romeo,
Depeche Mode,
The Motions,
Suicide,
Scientists,
In Retrospect,
The Vogues,
Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal.
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.