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 Malawi and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Faust to the techno 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Eyeless In Gaza tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Can 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacques Brel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
The Barracudas,
The Remains,
Shuggie Otis,
Juan Atkins,
Yellowson,
Marine Girls,
Quadrant,
Das Ding,
the Slits,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gang Green,
Babytalk,
Sixth Finger,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
JFA,
Harry Pussy,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Motorama,
Terry Callier,
Marcia Griffiths,
Barbara Tucker,
Traffic Nightmare,
Whodini,
Fat Boys,
Moss Icon,
Rekid,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
John Lydon,
Subhumans,
Roxy Music,
Lee Hazlewood,
Girls At Our Best!,
Nico,
Peter and Kerry,
Boogie Down Productions,
Joy Division,
The Dead C,
Pulsallama,
Ronan,
Erasure,
Nas,
Drexciya,
Audionom,
Tears for Fears,
June of 44,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
New Order,
Bobby Womack,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Quando Quango,
The Black Dice,
Avey Tare,
Quantec,
Marc Almond,
Jeff Mills,
Grauzone,
The Fuzztones,
Country Teasers,
Rotary Connection,
Adolescents,
The Human League,
Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux.
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.