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 Eritrea and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Warsaw 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 the Slits. All the underground hits.
All Television tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Derrick May,
Lakeside,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Rufus Thomas,
Erykah Badu,
Maleditus Sound,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Grandmaster Flash,
Ossler,
The Knickerbockers,
The Golliwogs,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Inner City,
Cecil Taylor,
Rapeman,
Hoover,
Lightning Bolt,
Blossom Toes,
Slave,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Dead C,
Matthew Halsall,
Lower 48,
L. Decosne,
The Associates,
Minnie Riperton,
Danielle Patucci,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Ken Boothe,
Colin Newman,
Don Cherry,
The Cure,
The Velvet Underground,
Freddie Wadling,
Glambeats Corp.,
Charles Mingus,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Depeche Mode,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Robert Görl,
DNA,
Mr. Review,
Guru Guru,
AZ,
Brothers Johnson,
kango's stein massive,
Grey Daturas,
The Mojo Men,
Robert Hood,
Fluxion,
Sixth Finger,
Eric Copeland,
Boz Scaggs,
The Techniques,
Patti Smith,
R.M.O.,
John Cale,
The Electric Prunes,
Blake Baxter,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.