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 Botswana and from Spokane.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Cecil Taylor to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Ralphi Rosario. All the underground hits.
All Selector Dub Narcotic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Albert Ayler 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
World's Most,
Pere Ubu,
Clear Light,
Arab on Radar,
Vladislav Delay,
The Last Poets,
Ituana,
Moby Grape,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Barracudas,
Marvin Gaye,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Divine Comedy,
Robert Wyatt,
Faraquet,
Suburban Knight,
Whodini,
Soul II Soul,
Underground Resistance,
the Swans,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bill Near,
The Happenings,
Bobby Byrd,
Schoolly D,
The Seeds,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Scan 7,
Crime,
Drexciya,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Essential Logic,
AZ,
Carl Craig,
A Flock of Seagulls,
David Bowie,
Khruangbin,
Ludus,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Von Mondo,
Mars,
Monolake,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Mummies,
Nirvana,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Television,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Techniques,
Au Pairs,
Al Stewart,
Parry Music,
Amon Düül,
Eric Dolphy,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Cosmic Jokers,
E-Dancer,
Fugazi,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes.
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.