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 Turkmenistan and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Ronnie Foster to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Accadde A record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ituana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Robert Wyatt,
The Fuzztones,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Pet Shop Boys,
Skarface,
Radiohead,
the Bar-Kays,
Sun Ra,
Public Image Ltd.,
Barry Ungar,
Lee Hazlewood,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Electric Prunes,
Y Pants,
Marcia Griffiths,
Nation of Ulysses,
Thee Headcoats,
Aloha Tigers,
Tubeway Army,
Hashim,
The United States of America,
Banda Bassotti,
Josef K,
Adolescents,
Eli Mardock,
The Standells,
Kurtis Blow,
R.M.O.,
Maleditus Sound,
Nas,
Mandrill,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jeff Mills,
Bronski Beat,
The Blues Magoos,
Gang Gang Dance,
In Retrospect,
Bad Manners,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Moody Blues,
Don Cherry,
Idris Muhammad,
Lower 48,
Black Pus,
Moby Grape,
Television,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rapeman,
Fad Gadget,
Glambeats Corp.,
Rotary Connection,
The Litter,
Bill Near,
Janne Schatter,
Slave,
Zapp,
Accadde A,
Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive.
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.