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 Nigeria 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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Pharoah Sanders. All the underground hits.
All In Retrospect tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Sneak record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Echo & the Bunnymen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cluster,
KRS-One,
Magazine,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Fela Kuti,
Charles Mingus,
Matthew Halsall,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Skaos,
Desert Stars,
Flash Fearless,
Joensuu 1685,
Avey Tare,
Lindisfarne,
Eddi Front,
Inner City,
Das Ding,
Swell Maps,
Cecil Taylor,
Pere Ubu,
Crispy Ambulance,
Loose Ends,
the Soft Cell,
Yusef Lateef,
The Star Department,
The Slits,
Nas,
Boredoms,
The United States of America,
Can,
Shuggie Otis,
Erykah Badu,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Gun Club,
Electric Prunes,
The Sound,
Kayak,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bill Wells,
Subhumans,
Danielle Patucci,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Faraquet,
The Raincoats,
Lalann,
Little Man,
Model 500,
Sparks,
The Misunderstood,
F. McDonald,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Vladislav Delay,
Arcadia,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Derrick Morgan,
Deadbeat,
Hardrive,
The American Breed,
Cheater Slicks,
The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies.
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.