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 Belarus and from Johannesburg.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Bremen.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Black Bananas to the funk 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 Suburban Knight. All the underground hits.
All Yaz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
Nirvana,
Ronan,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Vogues,
B.T. Express,
Mr. Review,
KRS-One,
the Swans,
Lungfish,
Harpers Bizarre,
Erasure,
Man Eating Sloth,
the Association,
The Angels of Light,
Masters at Work,
Blancmange,
Johnny Osbourne,
Marvin Gaye,
Big Daddy Kane,
Excepter,
The Sonics,
Lou Reed,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Rosa Yemen,
Cecil Taylor,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kenny Larkin,
The Five Americans,
Grandmaster Flash,
Juan Atkins,
Swans,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Fuzztones,
Sun City Girls,
The Beau Brummels,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bootsy Collins,
Flipper,
The Moleskins,
Bob Dylan,
These Immortal Souls,
Make Up,
Nico,
LL Cool J,
Saccharine Trust,
Alice Coltrane,
Pylon,
Minutemen,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Drexciya,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Gories,
Gichy Dan,
Cheater Slicks,
The Red Krayola,
Smog,
The Raincoats,
E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer.
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.