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 Maldives and from Bologna.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 arpeggiator 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Walker Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Prince Buster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cymande record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Man Parrish,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Doobie Brothers,
Goldenarms,
Pole,
Jesper Dahlback,
Pussy Galore,
Pagans,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Donald Byrd,
The Doors,
Lungfish,
Rekid,
Ponytail,
Graham Central Station,
Scrapy,
Lee Hazlewood,
Adolescents,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pantytec,
Fear,
Marine Girls,
Kool Moe Dee,
These Immortal Souls,
X-102,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Sonic Youth,
Skaos,
Sam Rivers,
Clear Light,
Cal Tjader,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Chris Corsano,
Agent Orange,
Country Teasers,
Lebanon Hanover,
Audionom,
MDC,
Section 25,
Liliput,
Kenny Larkin,
Heaven 17,
Guru Guru,
Scion,
Au Pairs,
Matthew Bourne,
Thee Headcoats,
Minnie Riperton,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Jacques Brel,
Alphaville,
E-Dancer,
KRS-One,
Maleditus Sound,
Kerrie Biddell,
Interpol,
Lower 48,
Nick Fraelich,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Neon Judgement,
Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance.
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.