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 Tunisia and from Philadelphia.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the guitar 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 Popol Vuh to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Aloha Tigers. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Red Krayola record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lizzy Mercier Descloux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
MDC,
Kerrie Biddell,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Crispy Ambulance,
Thompson Twins,
Pierre Henry,
Brothers Johnson,
The Cowsills,
Black Pus,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Guru Guru,
Quantec,
Sister Nancy,
Tres Demented,
Banda Bassotti,
Marshall Jefferson,
Intrusion,
The Move,
Goldenarms,
Stiv Bators,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pharoah Sanders,
Chris Corsano,
Terrestrial Tones,
Make Up,
Siglo XX,
The Blues Magoos,
Harmonia,
Q and Not U,
Sällskapet,
The Saints,
UT,
The Slits,
Jeru the Damaja,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Arab on Radar,
Gil Scott Heron,
Glambeats Corp.,
This Heat,
Young Marble Giants,
The New Christs,
Piero Umiliani,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Wasted Youth,
Supertramp,
The Invisible,
E-Dancer,
The Leaves,
Pussy Galore,
The Cure,
Delon & Dalcan,
Ken Boothe,
The Last Poets,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
48th St. Collective,
Altered Images,
The Smoke,
Quadrant,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Dark Day,
Reuben Wilson,
Mars,
Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese.
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.