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 Gambia and from Cairo.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 snare 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 John Coltrane to the grime 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 Soulsonic Force. All the underground hits.
All Deakin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Charles Mingus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 guitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gerry Rafferty,
Q65,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Public Enemy,
Wolf Eyes,
the Sonics,
The Motions,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Depeche Mode,
James Chance & The Contortions,
New Age Steppers,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bobby Byrd,
Flipper,
Quadrant,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Goldenarms,
Albert Ayler,
The Kinks,
Marine Girls,
Steve Hackett,
Mad Mike,
Bob Dylan,
The United States of America,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Reuben Wilson,
Scratch Acid,
Tubeway Army,
The Standells,
Deepchord,
Urselle,
Barbara Tucker,
Pulsallama,
Boogie Down Productions,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Bobby Sherman,
Ultravox,
The Blackbyrds,
Porter Ricks,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Suicide,
Q and Not U,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Names,
The Dirtbombs,
Josef K,
Mr. Review,
Davy DMX,
The New Christs,
Khruangbin,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Scientists,
Newcleus,
Nils Olav,
Sam Rivers,
Tom Boy,
Letta Mbulu,
Dawn Penn,
Terrestrial Tones,
the Human League, the Human League, the Human League, the Human League.
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.