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 Fiji and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The Happenings to the jazz 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 Icehouse. All the underground hits.
All Black Sheep tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Slits 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Names record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
ABC,
Sällskapet,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Steve Hackett,
Joe Finger,
The Evens,
Aswad,
L. Decosne,
ABBA,
Grauzone,
Yellowson,
Fluxion,
Nirvana,
H. Thieme,
Scrapy,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Fort Wilson Riot,
World's Most,
Todd Terry,
Charles Mingus,
Deepchord,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
June of 44,
Sexual Harrassment,
Liliput,
Negative Approach,
Ultimate Spinach,
Quadrant,
Subhumans,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Crispian St. Peters,
Harry Pussy,
Fela Kuti,
Radiohead,
Cymande,
The Motions,
Byron Stingily,
Blake Baxter,
Khruangbin,
The Vogues,
MC5,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
La Düsseldorf,
Joey Negro,
Howard Jones,
Pierre Henry,
Delta 5,
Henry Cow,
Crash Course in Science,
The Techniques,
Joyce Sims,
Deadbeat,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Index,
The Mojo Men,
Eden Ahbez,
The Mummies,
Mark Hollis,
Scan 7,
Oblivians,
Animal Collective,
Echospace,
Mad Mike,
The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets.
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.