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 Somalia and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 oboe 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 Television Personalities to the techno 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 Sonic Youth. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hoover 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Crispy Ambulance,
Trumans Water,
David Bowie,
Todd Rundgren,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Matthew Bourne,
Pagans,
Ultravox,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Television,
Mo-Dettes,
Rod Modell,
Gong,
Urselle,
Accadde A,
X-Ray Spex,
Q and Not U,
Brick,
Mr. Review,
The Grass Roots,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sällskapet,
The Durutti Column,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sandy B,
Swans,
The Modern Lovers,
Aaron Thompson,
The Electric Prunes,
Maurizio,
A Certain Ratio,
Bizarre Inc.,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Robert Wyatt,
Nas,
Das Ding,
Cecil Taylor,
The Names,
Grey Daturas,
Glenn Branca,
The Fall,
Freddie Wadling,
Davy DMX,
Connie Case,
Thompson Twins,
Make Up,
Vladislav Delay,
Leonard Cohen,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Laurel Aitken,
Gang Starr,
Crime,
The Zeros,
The Searchers,
Drive Like Jehu,
Wolf Eyes,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bootsy Collins,
The Monochrome Set, The Monochrome Set, The Monochrome Set, The Monochrome Set.
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.