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 Nepal and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
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 Bobby Hutcherson to the crunk 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 Swell Maps. All the underground hits.
All Thee Headcoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deakin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Archie Shepp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eli Mardock,
the Sonics,
Glenn Branca,
Anakelly,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Grey Daturas,
The Remains,
Prince Buster,
New York Dolls,
Radio Birdman,
FM Einheit,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Scan 7,
Stockholm Monsters,
Scion,
MDC,
Tubeway Army,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Johnny Osbourne,
DJ Style,
Bobby Byrd,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Young Marble Giants,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
X-102,
D'Angelo,
Sandy B,
Mars,
China Crisis,
Cecil Taylor,
Neu!,
The Smiths,
PIL,
Malaria!,
Gerry Rafferty,
Soulsonic Force,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
James White and The Blacks,
ABC,
Jerry's Kids,
Camberwell Now,
Anthony Braxton,
CMW,
Fat Boys,
Agent Orange,
Animal Collective,
Derrick Morgan,
The Gun Club,
Roy Ayers,
Alphaville,
Albert Ayler,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Con Funk Shun,
Thee Headcoats,
Spandau Ballet,
Harry Pussy,
Carl Craig,
Quadrant,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ultimate Spinach,
Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia.
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.