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 Lesotho and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 theremin 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Robert Wyatt. All the underground hits.
All Kaleidoscope tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brass Construction record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Althea and Donna,
Josef K,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Al Stewart,
Duran Duran,
John Holt,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Derrick Morgan,
Jeff Lynne,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Drexciya,
The Star Department,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Barry Ungar,
The Dirtbombs,
Maurizio,
Buzzcocks,
Janne Schatter,
Letta Mbulu,
DNA,
Toni Rubio,
Mo-Dettes,
The Velvet Underground,
Erasure,
Robert Hood,
Sunsets and Hearts,
John Lydon,
Essential Logic,
The Names,
Circle Jerks,
David McCallum,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Funkadelic,
Ronan,
Bob Dylan,
Soulsonic Force,
Liliput,
Aaron Thompson,
The Associates,
Gabor Szabo,
The Pretty Things,
Sixth Finger,
Carl Craig,
Flipper,
The Smoke,
John Coltrane,
KRS-One,
Monolake,
Magazine,
U.S. Maple,
Idris Muhammad,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Arcadia,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sun Ra,
Nico,
E-Dancer,
Minutemen,
Babytalk,
June of 44, June of 44, June of 44, June of 44.
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.