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 Maldives and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Marcia Griffiths to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All Patti Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Aural Exciters,
Suicide,
Unwound,
This Heat,
PIL,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Yazoo,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Robert Görl,
Black Flag,
Drive Like Jehu,
Gregory Isaacs,
Marmalade,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Saints,
DJ Style,
Glenn Branca,
Matthew Bourne,
Panda Bear,
Blancmange,
Sarah Menescal,
Amon Düül,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Funkadelic,
Swans,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Cecil Taylor,
Carl Craig,
the Association,
Sam Rivers,
The Skatalites,
Kerri Chandler,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Searchers,
Whodini,
The Monochrome Set,
Dead Boys,
Monks,
Young Marble Giants,
Black Pus,
Little Man,
Bob Dylan,
Sun Ra,
Livin' Joy,
Fear,
DNA,
Rosa Yemen,
Dorothy Ashby,
FM Einheit,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
John Foxx,
Groovy Waters,
Donald Byrd,
Godley & Creme,
Skaos,
the Germs,
Subhumans,
Bad Manners,
kango's stein massive,
Simply Red,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.