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 Afghanistan 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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the 808 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 The Monks to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Near record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flipper record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Interpol,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Harmonia,
Crispian St. Peters,
John Coltrane,
Yusef Lateef,
Section 25,
Crooked Eye,
Patti Smith,
Swell Maps,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Basic Channel,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Ralphi Rosario,
Television,
Buzzcocks,
Soul II Soul,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Nation of Ulysses,
Shoche,
Freddie Wadling,
Ituana,
Talk Talk,
Tubeway Army,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Standells,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Wally Richardson,
The Black Dice,
Dark Day,
AZ,
Michelle Simonal,
The Divine Comedy,
The Cramps,
Kurtis Blow,
Mad Mike,
Skaos,
John Holt,
Cameo,
World's Most,
Vladislav Delay,
The Detroit Cobras,
Hasil Adkins,
Minny Pops,
Judy Mowatt,
Sällskapet,
Gang of Four,
Maurizio,
John Lydon,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Q and Not U,
Mary Jane Girls,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Moleskins,
Sound Behaviour,
Yellowson,
The Sound,
Jeru the Damaja,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.