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 Cameroon and from Hong Kong.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch 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 Jeff Mills. All the underground hits.
All The J.B.'s tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Curtis Mayfield record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharoah Sanders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mandrill,
Slave,
Eric Dolphy,
the Bar-Kays,
Kenny Larkin,
The Slits,
Pussy Galore,
The Motions,
Joe Smooth,
The Gap Band,
Beasts of Bourbon,
48th St. Collective,
the Sonics,
Eddi Front,
Peter and Kerry,
Minor Threat,
Symarip,
Soulsonic Force,
Andrew Hill,
Monks,
Dave Gahan,
Mo-Dettes,
Ponytail,
Niagra,
Duran Duran,
The Happenings,
Arthur Verocai,
The Residents,
Lungfish,
Jacques Brel,
The Human League,
The Standells,
New York Dolls,
cv313,
Carl Craig,
Rhythm & Sound,
Nation of Ulysses,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Scrapy,
Maleditus Sound,
Gang of Four,
Anthony Braxton,
The Mojo Men,
Dennis Brown,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Shoche,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
B.T. Express,
Delon & Dalcan,
Popol Vuh,
The Electric Prunes,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Gang Green,
Banda Bassotti,
Bang On A Can,
the Soft Cell,
Joy Division,
Agitation Free,
Kerri Chandler,
Los Fastidios,
Matthew Halsall,
Newcleus,
Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback.
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.