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 Papua New Guinea and from Seoul.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Vaughan Mason & Crew to the grunge 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 The Mojo Men. All the underground hits.
All Thee Headcoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultramagnetic MC's 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Cramps,
Faraquet,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Index,
The Velvet Underground,
Drive Like Jehu,
Peter and Kerry,
Silicon Teens,
Skriet,
Marine Girls,
Make Up,
Young Marble Giants,
Mary Jane Girls,
The New Christs,
Eddi Front,
The J.B.'s,
Drexciya,
DJ Style,
Lindisfarne,
Grandmaster Flash,
Aswad,
Malaria!,
Bad Manners,
Al Stewart,
Freddie Wadling,
Interpol,
Excepter,
Arcadia,
The Happenings,
David Bowie,
Soft Cell,
Stereo Dub,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Brick,
Ultimate Spinach,
In Retrospect,
Outsiders,
Japan,
Spandau Ballet,
Radiohead,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
New Age Steppers,
Moss Icon,
Cybotron,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
John Cale,
Negative Approach,
Pussy Galore,
Monolake,
Con Funk Shun,
Wasted Youth,
Girls At Our Best!,
Anthony Braxton,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.