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 Austria and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 OOIOO to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All The Durutti Column tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ituana 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Be Bop Deluxe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swans,
Erykah Badu,
Skriet,
the Association,
Glenn Branca,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Judy Mowatt,
The Doors,
The Shadows of Knight,
Country Teasers,
The Smoke,
Unwound,
Jandek,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sällskapet,
The Divine Comedy,
DJ Style,
The Fortunes,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Dead C,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
AZ,
Popol Vuh,
The Flesh Eaters,
F. McDonald,
Gang Gang Dance,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Pop Group,
In Retrospect,
Tres Demented,
Wally Richardson,
David Bowie,
Jerry's Kids,
Clear Light,
Prince Buster,
Jeru the Damaja,
Juan Atkins,
Technova,
Zero Boys,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Beau Brummels,
Bobby Womack,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Circle Jerks,
Arab on Radar,
Crispy Ambulance,
Tomorrow,
The Martian,
Robert Hood,
Aaron Thompson,
Motorama,
Bobby Sherman,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Buzzcocks,
E-Dancer,
The Red Krayola,
The Monks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.