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 Maldives and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 clarinet 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 Jawbox to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Stockholm Monsters. All the underground hits.
All Boredoms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kango’s Stein Massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yusef Lateef record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sixth Finger,
The Moody Blues,
Khruangbin,
Can,
Rites of Spring,
Ralphi Rosario,
Fugazi,
Jeff Mills,
The Pretty Things,
Erykah Badu,
B.T. Express,
The Dead C,
John Cale,
Ken Boothe,
Kenny Larkin,
In Retrospect,
Minnie Riperton,
The Angels of Light,
Newcleus,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sonny Sharrock,
Marc Almond,
Sex Pistols,
Television Personalities,
The Martian,
The New Christs,
Livin' Joy,
Michelle Simonal,
Radio Birdman,
Animal Collective,
Connie Case,
Graham Central Station,
Mandrill,
Cybotron,
Pere Ubu,
Joe Smooth,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Harpers Bizarre,
the Human League,
Technova,
The Buckinghams,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Oblivians,
DNA,
Jeff Lynne,
Alphaville,
Shuggie Otis,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Marcia Griffiths,
Soulsonic Force,
Scratch Acid,
UT,
the Normal,
Icehouse,
Brand Nubian,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bad Manners,
Organ,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade.
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.