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 Kazakhstan and from Accra.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Byron Stingily to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Doors. All the underground hits.
All X-101 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monks 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nils Olav,
Urselle,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Dirtbombs,
Arcadia,
The Walker Brothers,
Hashim,
New York Dolls,
The Vogues,
E-Dancer,
Bob Dylan,
Bush Tetras,
Danielle Patucci,
the Slits,
Alphaville,
Gichy Dan,
The Birthday Party,
Jeff Mills,
Echospace,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Gang Starr,
Arthur Verocai,
Robert Hood,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Yazoo,
Royal Trux,
The Knickerbockers,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bobby Womack,
Can,
Toni Rubio,
Q and Not U,
Accadde A,
Wire,
Eric Dolphy,
The Sound,
New Age Steppers,
Black Bananas,
X-102,
Tubeway Army,
Barbara Tucker,
The Doors,
Chris Corsano,
L. Decosne,
Silicon Teens,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Johnny Clarke,
Newcleus,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Pretty Things,
The Leaves,
Suburban Knight,
The Cure,
La Düsseldorf,
Crooked Eye,
Aswad,
Sight & Sound,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Five Americans,
Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May.
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.