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 Japan and from Toronto.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 marimba 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All Vaughan Mason & Crew tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stetsasonic 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
Crispian St. Peters,
DJ Style,
Kerrie Biddell,
Pylon,
Marmalade,
Deadbeat,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Nick Fraelich,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Victims,
Hashim,
The Leaves,
Groovy Waters,
Model 500,
Marvin Gaye,
Dennis Brown,
Hoover,
Porter Ricks,
Connie Case,
Nirvana,
Joe Finger,
Dual Sessions,
Agent Orange,
the Sonics,
Deepchord,
Fluxion,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Idris Muhammad,
Metal Thangz,
Au Pairs,
Delon & Dalcan,
Youth Brigade,
Nils Olav,
Al Stewart,
Aaron Thompson,
Todd Rundgren,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Bluetip,
Essential Logic,
Alton Ellis,
Brass Construction,
Qualms,
Lyres,
Kerri Chandler,
Fugazi,
Kenny Larkin,
Thompson Twins,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
E-Dancer,
The Fortunes,
Newcleus,
Accadde A,
Eric Dolphy,
Pagans,
John Foxx,
the Slits,
Index,
The Moody Blues,
Jawbox,
Mission of Burma,
Juan Atkins,
Tom Boy,
Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul.
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.