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 Djibouti and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Glenn Branca to the jazz 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 The Pop Group. All the underground hits.
All Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nik Kershaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
Nation of Ulysses,
Blossom Toes,
Grauzone,
Sister Nancy,
Johnny Clarke,
The Smoke,
Zapp,
The Blackbyrds,
Soft Machine,
Cecil Taylor,
Alison Limerick,
DJ Sneak,
Roger Hodgson,
Albert Ayler,
Idris Muhammad,
Brand Nubian,
Jandek,
Patti Smith,
Sparks,
Pagans,
Newcleus,
Sexual Harrassment,
Vainqueur,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Interpol,
Jimmy McGriff,
Shoche,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Aloha Tigers,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Litter,
Model 500,
Lebanon Hanover,
K-Klass,
Charles Mingus,
Jesper Dahlback,
Y Pants,
Black Sheep,
Rapeman,
Tres Demented,
Main Source,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Marine Girls,
Boz Scaggs,
Clear Light,
Whodini,
Yaz,
the Association,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Velvet Underground,
Oneida,
Vladislav Delay,
Eurythmics,
Michelle Simonal,
The Move,
Anthony Braxton,
June Days,
Marvin Gaye,
Unwound,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Standells, The Standells, The Standells, The Standells.
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.