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 Sweden and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Spoonie Gee to the crunk 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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All The Searchers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mark Hollis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
James White and The Blacks,
Circle Jerks,
Electric Prunes,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Anthony Braxton,
Massinfluence,
Procol Harum,
Harmonia,
Joe Finger,
Loose Ends,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Max Romeo,
Tears for Fears,
The Moody Blues,
Mantronix,
Los Fastidios,
Brick,
DJ Sneak,
Organ,
Cal Tjader,
The Angels of Light,
Pere Ubu,
Angry Samoans,
Ken Boothe,
Tubeway Army,
B.T. Express,
Theoretical Girls,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
John Coltrane,
The Trojans,
Kerrie Biddell,
Guru Guru,
Hoover,
Roger Hodgson,
Lakeside,
Ornette Coleman,
The Remains,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
A Certain Ratio,
T. Rex,
Qualms,
Junior Murvin,
Donny Hathaway,
Albert Ayler,
The Raincoats,
Gichy Dan,
The Seeds,
Althea and Donna,
Fluxion,
Rekid,
The Fugs,
Bang On A Can,
Godley & Creme,
Urselle,
The Velvet Underground,
The Fuzztones,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Hardrive,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn.
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.