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 Ethiopia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Star Department to the rap 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. All the underground hits.
All Royal Trux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pierre Henry 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
Interpol,
U.S. Maple,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Matthew Halsall,
Maurizio,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Eurythmics,
Connie Case,
Minny Pops,
Johnny Clarke,
Malaria!,
Porter Ricks,
Ultra Naté,
Eve St. Jones,
Saccharine Trust,
Rites of Spring,
Funky Four + One,
Bill Wells,
The J.B.'s,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Moss Icon,
Laurel Aitken,
Underground Resistance,
Loose Ends,
Crooked Eye,
The Detroit Cobras,
Television,
Rekid,
Jawbox,
Black Flag,
Vladislav Delay,
Gong,
Technova,
The Cowsills,
Black Bananas,
The Blackbyrds,
Duran Duran,
New York Dolls,
Eric B and Rakim,
8 Eyed Spy,
Quadrant,
Tubeway Army,
Tim Buckley,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Archie Shepp,
The Techniques,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Arthur Verocai,
Brothers Johnson,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Grey Daturas,
Khruangbin,
Rosa Yemen,
The Pretty Things,
Scan 7,
Howard Jones,
a-ha,
Groovy Waters,
Traffic Nightmare,
Excepter,
Junior Murvin,
Fear,
Hot Snakes,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.