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 China 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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 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 The Grass Roots to the grunge 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 Nation of Ulysses. All the underground hits.
All Lucky Dragons tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Walker Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Crooked Eye,
Frankie Knuckles,
Reagan Youth,
Pantytec,
Crispy Ambulance,
Young Marble Giants,
the Association,
Quadrant,
Absolute Body Control,
Magazine,
Suburban Knight,
Clear Light,
The J.B.'s,
John Holt,
Hasil Adkins,
Maurizio,
Slave,
Niagra,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Lakeside,
Organ,
Wings,
Ultra Naté,
Al Stewart,
Prince Buster,
Harmonia,
Smog,
Negative Approach,
The Vogues,
Marmalade,
kango's stein massive,
Eric Copeland,
Spandau Ballet,
Gastr Del Sol,
Skarface,
R.M.O.,
Faraquet,
Kevin Saunderson,
Gichy Dan,
Adolescents,
Simply Red,
Von Mondo,
Sunsets and Hearts,
the Swans,
Lyres,
Nation of Ulysses,
June Days,
Scan 7,
The Gories,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Fluxion,
Ice-T,
Bill Wells,
Man Parrish,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sister Nancy,
Stiv Bators,
Bauhaus,
Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane.
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.