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 Johannesburg.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Raincoats to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bush Tetras. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Morten Harket record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moody Blues,
KRS-One,
Urselle,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
MDC,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Electric Prunes,
Cal Tjader,
Gang of Four,
The Velvet Underground,
Avey Tare,
Man Parrish,
Franke,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Gun Club,
Stetsasonic,
Delta 5,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Neon Judgement,
Iggy Pop,
Shuggie Otis,
Swans,
Soul II Soul,
Simply Red,
Sonny Sharrock,
Warren Ellis,
The Fuzztones,
Darondo,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Skaos,
Marine Girls,
Outsiders,
Matthew Bourne,
Minor Threat,
a-ha,
Skarface,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Pantytec,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bronski Beat,
The Cowsills,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Essential Logic,
Black Flag,
Kayak,
Amon Düül II,
Sister Nancy,
Neu!,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Interpol,
Mary Jane Girls,
the Swans,
the Human League,
Vladislav Delay,
Aural Exciters,
Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones.
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.