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 Senegal and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 New Age Steppers to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Unwound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Motorama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultravox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glenn Branca,
Wolf Eyes,
Lyres,
Idris Muhammad,
The Wake,
The Alarm Clocks,
Index,
LL Cool J,
Das Ding,
8 Eyed Spy,
Brothers Johnson,
Thompson Twins,
Spandau Ballet,
John Lydon,
Ken Boothe,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Swell Maps,
Sonny Sharrock,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Aural Exciters,
Fat Boys,
Von Mondo,
Sarah Menescal,
The Leaves,
Jeff Mills,
Lou Christie,
Ludus,
Fad Gadget,
F. McDonald,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Tom Boy,
David McCallum,
Byron Stingily,
Country Teasers,
Joey Negro,
Ronnie Foster,
Rites of Spring,
Harpers Bizarre,
EPMD,
The Grass Roots,
Sällskapet,
Rakim,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Roxy Music,
Rapeman,
Sparks,
Grandmaster Flash,
L. Decosne,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Matthew Bourne,
Frankie Knuckles,
Suburban Knight,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Liliput,
Zapp,
Bob Dylan,
Derrick May,
The Smoke,
Make Up,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.