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 Zimbabwe and from Woodstock.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Second Layer to the electroclash 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 Residents. All the underground hits.
All Cymande tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every JFA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Von Mondo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Davy DMX,
June Days,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ludus,
The Victims,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Severed Heads,
The Black Dice,
The Blackbyrds,
Jimmy McGriff,
Metal Thangz,
E-Dancer,
Pierre Henry,
Thee Headcoats,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
CMW,
Lucky Dragons,
Soul Sonic Force,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gang of Four,
Yusef Lateef,
Stetsasonic,
Infiniti,
Shuggie Otis,
Blancmange,
The Martian,
This Heat,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Interpol,
Nirvana,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Fugs,
The Dead C,
Arcadia,
Khruangbin,
Tubeway Army,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Dark Day,
Connie Case,
Jerry's Kids,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Duran Duran,
Tomorrow,
Bobby Sherman,
Peter and Kerry,
Marshall Jefferson,
Brothers Johnson,
Blossom Toes,
Gang Gang Dance,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Roy Ayers,
Country Teasers,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Public Image Ltd.,
Porter Ricks,
Iggy Pop,
A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls.
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.