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 Indonesia and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 DJ Style to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Gerry Rafferty tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maurizio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a kango's stein massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glenn Branca,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Gang Starr,
Harpers Bizarre,
Rotary Connection,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
F. McDonald,
Moby Grape,
Cymande,
X-101,
Pulsallama,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sarah Menescal,
Pere Ubu,
PIL,
The Evens,
Das Ding,
Rapeman,
Robert Hood,
Rufus Thomas,
World's Most,
Skarface,
Radio Birdman,
David Axelrod,
The Gun Club,
Yazoo,
Albert Ayler,
ABC,
Oblivians,
the Swans,
Qualms,
Model 500,
Charles Mingus,
Sam Rivers,
Desert Stars,
Eden Ahbez,
E-Dancer,
New Order,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Associates,
Letta Mbulu,
Masters at Work,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Barracudas,
Inner City,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Real Kids,
Fear,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
X-102,
Yaz,
Pylon,
The United States of America,
Urselle,
Mary Jane Girls,
Kayak,
Warren Ellis,
Loose Ends,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Toni Rubio,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ultra Naté,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade.
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.