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 Dominica and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 guitar 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 Alice Coltrane to the funk 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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Black Bananas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cheater Slicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
the Sonics,
LL Cool J,
Dawn Penn,
Little Man,
Wally Richardson,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gil Scott Heron,
Hashim,
Eli Mardock,
Soul II Soul,
John Foxx,
Robert Wyatt,
Glenn Branca,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Jeff Mills,
Bobby Womack,
Rhythm & Sound,
X-101,
The Cosmic Jokers,
the Slits,
the Human League,
Crispian St. Peters,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Soft Machine,
Howard Jones,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Modern Lovers,
Eric Copeland,
Brothers Johnson,
Pharoah Sanders,
L. Decosne,
Nik Kershaw,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Skarface,
Nirvana,
Cheater Slicks,
Henry Cow,
Johnny Clarke,
Newcleus,
Minor Threat,
Pantaleimon,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Barbara Tucker,
Intrusion,
Harpers Bizarre,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Fluxion,
the Soft Cell,
Can,
The Wake,
Godley & Creme,
Mission of Burma,
K-Klass,
Bronski Beat,
Gregory Isaacs,
Popol Vuh,
Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster.
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.