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 Azerbaijan and from Milan.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Durutti Column to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 One Last Wish. All the underground hits.
All Crash Course in Science tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Malaria! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Byron Stingily record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Starr,
Sexual Harrassment,
Terry Callier,
Yellowson,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Arthur Verocai,
The Selecter,
Marc Almond,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ken Boothe,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Nirvana,
Zero Boys,
Terrestrial Tones,
Carl Craig,
The Sonics,
Bronski Beat,
Lou Christie,
Tommy Roe,
Pantytec,
Drive Like Jehu,
Chris Corsano,
La Düsseldorf,
Deakin,
Goldenarms,
Franke,
Warsaw,
The Busters,
Underground Resistance,
Pierre Henry,
The Raincoats,
Frankie Knuckles,
Blancmange,
Byron Stingily,
Rosa Yemen,
Black Moon,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Boz Scaggs,
Tomorrow,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Neu!,
Leonard Cohen,
Barbara Tucker,
Soul II Soul,
X-102,
Tom Boy,
Thee Headcoats,
X-101,
Outsiders,
Rufus Thomas,
Todd Rundgren,
Amon Düül,
Scrapy,
Desert Stars,
cv313,
The Flesh Eaters,
T. Rex,
Shuggie Otis,
Metal Thangz,
Wolf Eyes,
Donny Hathaway,
Pagans, Pagans, Pagans, Pagans.
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.