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 Kyrgyzstan and from Calgary.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Glasgow.
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 guitar 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 Mary Jane Girls to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Sonics. All the underground hits.
All Ronnie Foster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Normal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brand Nubian,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Deadbeat,
Charles Mingus,
Skriet,
Basic Channel,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Monochrome Set,
Pere Ubu,
Sexual Harrassment,
Theoretical Girls,
The Pretty Things,
Gil Scott Heron,
Youth Brigade,
Von Mondo,
Dead Boys,
Surgeon,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Rites of Spring,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Juan Atkins,
Average White Band,
Max Romeo,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Sonics,
Slave,
Niagra,
The Human League,
Soft Cell,
Eric Copeland,
Connie Case,
Harmonia,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Cal Tjader,
The American Breed,
Inner City,
Oblivians,
Loose Ends,
Barbara Tucker,
The Kinks,
Frankie Knuckles,
Andrew Hill,
David McCallum,
Monolake,
Bootsy Collins,
Subhumans,
Silicon Teens,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Henry Cow,
Don Cherry,
Model 500,
Radiohead,
Rapeman,
The Gories,
The New Christs,
Nico,
Nirvana,
Anthony Braxton,
Amon Düül II,
The Searchers,
Yaz, Yaz, Yaz, Yaz.
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.