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 Taipei.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 oboe 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 Andrew Hill 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 Sun Ra Arkestra. All the underground hits.
All These Immortal Souls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pere Ubu 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Connie Case,
Public Enemy,
Isaac Hayes,
The Wake,
James White and The Blacks,
Crooked Eye,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Y Pants,
Clear Light,
X-102,
Toni Rubio,
Whodini,
Darondo,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Josef K,
H. Thieme,
Funkadelic,
Henry Cow,
Minny Pops,
Letta Mbulu,
The Birthday Party,
Deadbeat,
Godley & Creme,
Porter Ricks,
Trumans Water,
X-Ray Spex,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Dead Boys,
Sonny Sharrock,
Iggy Pop,
Crispian St. Peters,
Scrapy,
Grauzone,
The Fugs,
The Sonics,
The Knickerbockers,
John Foxx,
Pylon,
Accadde A,
One Last Wish,
Pere Ubu,
Rapeman,
Arthur Verocai,
Man Eating Sloth,
Brick,
Soft Machine,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Donald Byrd,
Metal Thangz,
John Cale,
Depeche Mode,
Don Cherry,
The Young Rascals,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sugar Minott,
Colin Newman,
Pet Shop Boys,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Scientists, Scientists, Scientists, Scientists.
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.