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 Uzbekistan and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 Rhythm & Sound to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Con Funk Shun. All the underground hits.
All The Cure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James Chance & The Contortions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Delta 5,
The Techniques,
The American Breed,
The Saints,
Idris Muhammad,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Blackbyrds,
Sonny Sharrock,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Kayak,
Alice Coltrane,
Roxy Music,
Black Sheep,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Henry Cow,
The Durutti Column,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sällskapet,
The Shadows of Knight,
Q65,
The Electric Prunes,
Wally Richardson,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Victims,
Pere Ubu,
Boredoms,
Patti Smith,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Essential Logic,
Man Eating Sloth,
Visage,
Severed Heads,
One Last Wish,
Kerrie Biddell,
the Association,
Gichy Dan,
The Beau Brummels,
Average White Band,
Howard Jones,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Jeru the Damaja,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Symarip,
Ronan,
Whodini,
Bob Dylan,
Althea and Donna,
Rufus Thomas,
Motorama,
The Busters,
Chrome,
The Evens,
Moss Icon,
T.S.O.L.,
Banda Bassotti,
Sight & Sound,
Brick,
Black Flag,
Excepter,
Lower 48,
Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry.
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.