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 Grenada and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 theremin 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 Amon Düül to the punk 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 Fat Boys. All the underground hits.
All Masters at Work tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pylon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Subhumans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blake Baxter,
The Names,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Gun Club,
Japan,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Los Fastidios,
Soft Machine,
Siglo XX,
Roxy Music,
DNA,
Throbbing Gristle,
the Normal,
Brand Nubian,
Infiniti,
Rosa Yemen,
Cecil Taylor,
The Alarm Clocks,
Barclay James Harvest,
Deepchord,
Jerry's Kids,
The Blues Magoos,
The Doors,
Scrapy,
Donny Hathaway,
Das Ding,
K-Klass,
The Golliwogs,
Sonic Youth,
KRS-One,
The Star Department,
Joensuu 1685,
H. Thieme,
Dorothy Ashby,
Slick Rick,
The Buckinghams,
The Saints,
The Fortunes,
The J.B.'s,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Average White Band,
cv313,
The Mummies,
Glambeats Corp.,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bob Dylan,
Fat Boys,
Jawbox,
UT,
Essential Logic,
Boz Scaggs,
Arcadia,
Sight & Sound,
Crash Course in Science,
Swell Maps,
Swans,
Glenn Branca,
Howard Jones,
Spandau Ballet,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Flipper,
The Offenders,
Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants.
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.