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 Kyrgyzstan and from Mumbai.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Deakin to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Vainqueur. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Birthday Party 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pylon,
Lightning Bolt,
Dawn Penn,
Malaria!,
MC5,
A Certain Ratio,
Colin Newman,
The Selecter,
a-ha,
Peter & Gordon,
Don Cherry,
Harry Pussy,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Barclay James Harvest,
Moby Grape,
Livin' Joy,
Matthew Halsall,
Procol Harum,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Modern Lovers,
Tim Buckley,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Buckinghams,
Ultra Naté,
Joy Division,
Yazoo,
X-Ray Spex,
Howard Jones,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Iggy Pop,
The Beau Brummels,
The Standells,
Liliput,
Ultravox,
Fluxion,
Wings,
Von Mondo,
Black Sheep,
Fad Gadget,
Gichy Dan,
The Mighty Diamonds,
John Coltrane,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Gang Starr,
H. Thieme,
Soulsonic Force,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sight & Sound,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Fire Engines,
DNA,
Clear Light,
Pole,
Little Man,
Vainqueur,
Jawbox,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Stereo Dub,
Pussy Galore,
The Wake,
The Kinks,
Drexciya,
Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians.
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.