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 Zambia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 chamberlin 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 Peter and Kerry to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Pierre Henry. All the underground hits.
All Radiopuhelimet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dawn Penn,
Henry Cow,
Silicon Teens,
Barry Ungar,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Misunderstood,
Monolake,
Brick,
Nirvana,
Crooked Eye,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Chrome,
Sällskapet,
FM Einheit,
The Mojo Men,
Suicide,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Supertramp,
Nick Fraelich,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Star Department,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Surgeon,
Cheater Slicks,
Pet Shop Boys,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Los Fastidios,
The Fall,
Susan Cadogan,
Sound Behaviour,
Moebius,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Patti Smith,
The United States of America,
Archie Shepp,
Livin' Joy,
The Walker Brothers,
Panda Bear,
Black Bananas,
The Raincoats,
Quadrant,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ralphi Rosario,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
KRS-One,
Accadde A,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Gories,
Young Marble Giants,
The Gun Club,
The Names,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Mo-Dettes,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Litter,
Essential Logic,
Icehouse,
Pere Ubu,
Make Up,
Q and Not U,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield.
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.