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 Ivory Coast and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Anthony Braxton to the rap 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 The Trojans. All the underground hits.
All Black Flag tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fatback Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ornette Coleman,
Mantronix,
the Human League,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Shoche,
Stereo Dub,
The Raincoats,
Connie Case,
The Invisible,
Hoover,
The Gun Club,
Marcia Griffiths,
Neu!,
Easy Going,
E-Dancer,
David McCallum,
John Holt,
Public Image Ltd.,
Altered Images,
Jawbox,
Todd Terry,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Buzzcocks,
Lucky Dragons,
Monks,
New Order,
Loose Ends,
The Divine Comedy,
Television Personalities,
The Moleskins,
Pagans,
Kool Moe Dee,
Johnny Clarke,
Tom Boy,
the Association,
the Swans,
Section 25,
Electric Prunes,
Pet Shop Boys,
Robert Görl,
The Evens,
Gang of Four,
Sixth Finger,
Grauzone,
Livin' Joy,
Bang On A Can,
The Kinks,
Eric B and Rakim,
F. McDonald,
The Gladiators,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Funky Four + One,
Flash Fearless,
Janne Schatter,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Franke,
Skriet,
Essential Logic,
Wasted Youth,
Bootsy Collins,
Index,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ohio Players,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.