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 Iraq and from Stockholm.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Edmonton.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Don Cherry to the crunk 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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All Arab on Radar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ossler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
The Techniques,
The Happenings,
June of 44,
David Bowie,
Eric B and Rakim,
Danielle Patucci,
Flamin' Groovies,
New Age Steppers,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Aural Exciters,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Angry Samoans,
Visage,
Nico,
Gang of Four,
Joyce Sims,
Kevin Saunderson,
Cymande,
The Human League,
Wally Richardson,
MDC,
Skaos,
Marshall Jefferson,
Severed Heads,
Jeff Mills,
Bang On A Can,
Darondo,
Marine Girls,
Joy Division,
The Offenders,
Soulsonic Force,
Gong,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bootsy Collins,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The New Christs,
Avey Tare,
Mandrill,
The Fugs,
Tres Demented,
The Move,
Bill Wells,
Mark Hollis,
The Five Americans,
The Martian,
Heaven 17,
Henry Cow,
The Fall,
B.T. Express,
Hoover,
Grandmaster Flash,
Alison Limerick,
Minutemen,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Michelle Simonal,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Vainqueur,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.