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 Mexico and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 rhodes 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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the rap 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 Lou Reed. All the underground hits.
All Ultra Naté tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Star Department record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Reuben Wilson,
Johnny Clarke,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Panda Bear,
F. McDonald,
John Coltrane,
Inner City,
The Residents,
Lightning Bolt,
the Soft Cell,
Avey Tare,
Magma,
Junior Murvin,
Procol Harum,
Gang Gang Dance,
Scan 7,
Talk Talk,
Minny Pops,
Easy Going,
The Raincoats,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Barracudas,
Donny Hathaway,
The Modern Lovers,
The Knickerbockers,
Max Romeo,
Juan Atkins,
Subhumans,
Curtis Mayfield,
Bootsy Collins,
Hot Snakes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Qualms,
Vladislav Delay,
The Velvet Underground,
Lalo Schifrin,
DJ Sneak,
Gastr Del Sol,
Ornette Coleman,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Cecil Taylor,
Pantaleimon,
Rekid,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Black Flag,
the Swans,
OOIOO,
The Remains,
Big Daddy Kane,
Danielle Patucci,
Essential Logic,
Stetsasonic,
Idris Muhammad,
Thompson Twins,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Dawn Penn,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Grauzone,
Tubeway Army,
X-102,
K-Klass,
Warsaw,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.