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 Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Anthony Braxton to the grunge 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 Saints. All the underground hits.
All Clear Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Litter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sonny Sharrock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
LL Cool J,
Henry Cow,
E-Dancer,
Siglo XX,
Pagans,
Reuben Wilson,
Anthony Braxton,
Kurtis Blow,
Stockholm Monsters,
Swell Maps,
the Association,
The Barracudas,
Boredoms,
Schoolly D,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Robert Hood,
The Mummies,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Cheater Slicks,
Ken Boothe,
The Modern Lovers,
Soft Cell,
Gabor Szabo,
Silicon Teens,
Moebius,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Das Ding,
Man Parrish,
Popol Vuh,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bad Manners,
Robert Wyatt,
Kenny Larkin,
B.T. Express,
Lindisfarne,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Lou Christie,
Minnie Riperton,
The Moleskins,
The Raincoats,
The Fuzztones,
the Swans,
Eddi Front,
Minny Pops,
The Saints,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Country Teasers,
The Gladiators,
Marine Girls,
Brand Nubian,
Leonard Cohen,
Chris Corsano,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Can,
Shuggie Otis,
Quantec,
the Slits,
Nick Fraelich,
Warren Ellis,
Rekid, Rekid, Rekid, Rekid.
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.