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 Cameroon and from Seoul.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 harpsichord 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 Nas to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moleskins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rosa Yemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Lower 48,
Eli Mardock,
Robert Wyatt,
Aloha Tigers,
Lou Christie,
Marcia Griffiths,
Cameo,
Letta Mbulu,
Flipper,
Nirvana,
Hot Snakes,
Shuggie Otis,
Cecil Taylor,
The Fuzztones,
Peter and Kerry,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Los Fastidios,
The Leaves,
Porter Ricks,
Susan Cadogan,
Circle Jerks,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Marine Girls,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Archie Shepp,
Morten Harket,
Swans,
Fad Gadget,
Mr. Review,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Joe Smooth,
Henry Cow,
Brand Nubian,
The Dirtbombs,
Laurel Aitken,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Man Eating Sloth,
Nas,
Kenny Larkin,
the Soft Cell,
John Foxx,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Franke,
Groovy Waters,
James White and The Blacks,
Electric Prunes,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bluetip,
Ossler,
La Düsseldorf,
Graham Central Station,
Scan 7,
Oneida,
Eve St. Jones,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Kayak,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
X-Ray Spex,
Glenn Branca,
Gabor Szabo,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Q and Not U,
Scientists, Scientists, Scientists, Scientists.
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.