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 Chile and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Accra.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the sitar 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 Pantaleimon to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Crime. All the underground hits.
All Sly & The Family Stone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bush Tetras 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Patti Smith,
The Vogues,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Glenn Branca,
Qualms,
Fatback Band,
Johnny Clarke,
Bang On A Can,
Jeff Mills,
Andrew Hill,
Panda Bear,
Aloha Tigers,
Tropical Tobacco,
Gang Gang Dance,
Joey Negro,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Gerry Rafferty,
Jeff Lynne,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Minor Threat,
Black Flag,
The Zeros,
Ituana,
kango's stein massive,
Iggy Pop,
Donny Hathaway,
The Doors,
The Last Poets,
Mark Hollis,
AZ,
Index,
Kaleidoscope,
Alphaville,
Scion,
Stereo Dub,
Charles Mingus,
Soul Sonic Force,
These Immortal Souls,
Tres Demented,
Little Man,
A Certain Ratio,
Drexciya,
The Detroit Cobras,
Country Teasers,
Wasted Youth,
Oblivians,
Thompson Twins,
Masters at Work,
The Skatalites,
DJ Style,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
UT,
Yaz,
The Slits,
Unwound,
Stiv Bators,
The Trojans,
H. Thieme,
Sister Nancy,
Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt.
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.