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 Benin and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Ituana. All the underground hits.
All Blancmange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Japan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Move record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
FM Einheit,
Funky Four + One,
Public Enemy,
The Beau Brummels,
David Bowie,
Steve Hackett,
Judy Mowatt,
The Knickerbockers,
Scrapy,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Eden Ahbez,
8 Eyed Spy,
The American Breed,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Eddi Front,
Jacob Miller,
Hoover,
Saccharine Trust,
Harry Pussy,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Ultimate Spinach,
Main Source,
Camouflage,
Arcadia,
New Order,
Slave,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Albert Ayler,
Moebius,
Electric Light Orchestra,
ABBA,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pussy Galore,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The New Christs,
The Fortunes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
the Bar-Kays,
Angry Samoans,
Grey Daturas,
Lou Reed,
Depeche Mode,
Glenn Branca,
Byron Stingily,
Kenny Larkin,
Bobby Sherman,
Skaos,
Tim Buckley,
Black Moon,
Scott Walker,
China Crisis,
T. Rex,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Dead C,
Visage,
Blake Baxter,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Leaves,
Jandek,
Lebanon Hanover,
Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth.
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.