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 Singapore and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 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 Eric Copeland to the funk 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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All Pantytec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Music Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Unrelated Segments,
Metal Thangz,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Anakelly,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Smoke,
Buzzcocks,
Susan Cadogan,
8 Eyed Spy,
X-102,
Quando Quango,
Warsaw,
The Gun Club,
Slick Rick,
Thompson Twins,
Ralphi Rosario,
Lungfish,
Man Parrish,
Joe Smooth,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bronski Beat,
Television,
The Gap Band,
Bad Manners,
Q and Not U,
Minor Threat,
Soul Sonic Force,
John Holt,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Section 25,
Chrome,
The Moleskins,
Sonic Youth,
Eli Mardock,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sun Ra,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Juan Atkins,
Chris & Cosey,
Junior Murvin,
the Association,
Los Fastidios,
Ken Boothe,
Easy Going,
Donald Byrd,
Crash Course in Science,
Aswad,
Accadde A,
One Last Wish,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Terrestrial Tones,
Swans,
Rhythm & Sound,
Marshall Jefferson,
Pere Ubu,
Panda Bear,
Can, Can, Can, Can.
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.