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 Tajikistan and from Taipei.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the marimba 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 L. Decosne to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Knickerbockers. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agitation Free record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nirvana,
Guru Guru,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Das Ding,
Accadde A,
Ornette Coleman,
Boz Scaggs,
Essential Logic,
Jacob Miller,
The Last Poets,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Duran Duran,
Delta 5,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Evens,
Moebius,
Neu!,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Audionom,
Bobby Byrd,
Eric Dolphy,
Blancmange,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Zapp,
Black Moon,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ponytail,
Swans,
Tomorrow,
Suburban Knight,
Vladislav Delay,
Brand Nubian,
Dawn Penn,
Hasil Adkins,
Tom Boy,
Newcleus,
Panda Bear,
Connie Case,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
ABC,
Infiniti,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
KRS-One,
Buzzcocks,
Chrome,
The Birthday Party,
Magazine,
Pet Shop Boys,
Negative Approach,
Joy Division,
Kayak,
Black Flag,
Surgeon,
Lebanon Hanover,
Scratch Acid,
Johnny Clarke,
Arab on Radar,
Arthur Verocai,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.