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 Djibouti and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Ossler. All the underground hits.
All FM Einheit tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Enemy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Evens record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jawbox,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Hasil Adkins,
Donald Byrd,
Matthew Halsall,
Bluetip,
Soft Machine,
Marcia Griffiths,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Alphaville,
The Kinks,
Skriet,
OOIOO,
Kurtis Blow,
T. Rex,
The Slits,
Ronan,
Erykah Badu,
Fat Boys,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
CMW,
Freddie Wadling,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Black Dice,
The Gories,
Reuben Wilson,
EPMD,
Stereo Dub,
The Last Poets,
Bronski Beat,
Black Bananas,
The Monochrome Set,
Suicide,
Intrusion,
Joyce Sims,
Theoretical Girls,
Glambeats Corp.,
Neu!,
The American Breed,
Hot Snakes,
Amon Düül II,
Mad Mike,
R.M.O.,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lyres,
Livin' Joy,
The Human League,
David Bowie,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Monolake,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Walker Brothers,
Traffic Nightmare,
Drexciya,
Crash Course in Science,
Sixth Finger,
the Fania All-Stars,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Wings,
Procol Harum,
Magma,
The Wake,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.