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 South Sudan and from Sao Paulo.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Johannesburg.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Men They Couldn't Hang to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Junior Murvin. All the underground hits.
All The Mummies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dead Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marmalade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siglo XX,
K-Klass,
David McCallum,
Excepter,
Marine Girls,
Soft Cell,
Hardrive,
Index,
Hashim,
The Evens,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
D'Angelo,
Wolf Eyes,
Warren Ellis,
Soft Machine,
Crooked Eye,
Black Moon,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Avey Tare,
Black Pus,
Oneida,
Suburban Knight,
Newcleus,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Goldenarms,
Eric Dolphy,
Neil Young,
Mark Hollis,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Stooges,
Procol Harum,
T.S.O.L.,
Lyres,
Tropical Tobacco,
Au Pairs,
Lalann,
AZ,
Cecil Taylor,
DNA,
The Fuzztones,
H. Thieme,
Alton Ellis,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ice-T,
Kas Product,
Ronan,
Jeff Mills,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Velvet Underground,
Matthew Halsall,
Bad Manners,
Sandy B,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Khruangbin,
The Busters,
Peter and Kerry,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft.
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.