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 Honduras and from Philadelphia.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar 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 Durutti Column to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Cecil Taylor. All the underground hits.
All Adolescents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Japan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fugazi record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Five Americans,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Scrapy,
Heaven 17,
Bobby Womack,
X-Ray Spex,
Average White Band,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sandy B,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Newcleus,
Con Funk Shun,
Interpol,
Peter and Kerry,
Country Teasers,
The Cramps,
Mission of Burma,
The Modern Lovers,
Big Daddy Kane,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
London Community Gospel Choir,
A Certain Ratio,
Khruangbin,
DNA,
Masters at Work,
Fluxion,
Ohio Players,
Drive Like Jehu,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Aaron Thompson,
the Germs,
Tres Demented,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Oblivians,
Pussy Galore,
Glenn Branca,
The Smoke,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Anthony Braxton,
Q and Not U,
John Coltrane,
Intrusion,
Deepchord,
H. Thieme,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Section 25,
Maleditus Sound,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sonic Youth,
The Invisible,
Ash Ra Tempel,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Reuben Wilson,
Gang of Four,
48th St. Collective,
Crooked Eye,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.