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 Pakistan and from Shanghai.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ 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 Connie Case to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Hutcherson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lucky Dragons record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barry Ungar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The United States of America,
Au Pairs,
T. Rex,
Bill Wells,
H. Thieme,
the Human League,
Jandek,
John Coltrane,
The Wake,
Slick Rick,
Amon Düül II,
Wasted Youth,
Cameo,
Dorothy Ashby,
Cal Tjader,
Bootsy Collins,
Andrew Hill,
Suicide,
Joe Smooth,
Bill Near,
Blossom Toes,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Rekid,
Procol Harum,
Scrapy,
Cluster,
Matthew Halsall,
X-101,
Fad Gadget,
Country Teasers,
Hashim,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Deadbeat,
Television,
Ken Boothe,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Pussy Galore,
John Lydon,
Iggy Pop,
Ronnie Foster,
Model 500,
The Gun Club,
JFA,
Public Enemy,
Massinfluence,
The Fortunes,
Lindisfarne,
Little Man,
Fear,
Pierre Henry,
Drive Like Jehu,
Archie Shepp,
Qualms,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Black Dice,
The Doors,
Sam Rivers,
Motorama,
Interpol,
Index,
Nik Kershaw,
David McCallum, David McCallum, David McCallum, David McCallum.
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.