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 Albania and from Edmonton.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Mr. Review to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Rosa Yemen. All the underground hits.
All Outsiders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
Half Japanese,
Mission of Burma,
John Foxx,
Das Ding,
Youth Brigade,
Robert Görl,
Quadrant,
Rakim,
Trumans Water,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Heaven 17,
Clear Light,
Metal Thangz,
Godley & Creme,
Boogie Down Productions,
H. Thieme,
Janne Schatter,
The Techniques,
Harmonia,
The Skatalites,
Pierre Henry,
Prince Buster,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gil Scott Heron,
Don Cherry,
Magma,
Ultimate Spinach,
Fatback Band,
Tres Demented,
Little Man,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lower 48,
This Heat,
Hashim,
Roger Hodgson,
Lebanon Hanover,
Zapp,
Absolute Body Control,
Ultra Naté,
Todd Terry,
Groovy Waters,
Aswad,
Blossom Toes,
Wings,
Underground Resistance,
The Offenders,
Deadbeat,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Beau Brummels,
Electric Prunes,
Siglo XX,
The Sonics,
UT,
Soft Cell,
Agitation Free,
Pagans,
Con Funk Shun,
The Electric Prunes,
AZ, AZ, AZ, AZ.
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.