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 Bhutan and from Manila.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The Selecter to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Chris & Cosey. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pulsallama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
Alison Limerick,
Nas,
Swell Maps,
DJ Style,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Busters,
The Monks,
Neu!,
Danielle Patucci,
Erykah Badu,
Camouflage,
Peter & Gordon,
The Fugs,
Stiv Bators,
Bauhaus,
Minutemen,
Basic Channel,
Yellowson,
Smog,
The Fire Engines,
JFA,
Mandrill,
Joey Negro,
Slave,
The Happenings,
Faust,
Barbara Tucker,
Judy Mowatt,
John Cale,
FM Einheit,
Buzzcocks,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Angels of Light,
Barclay James Harvest,
Donald Byrd,
The Victims,
Pylon,
Aloha Tigers,
Eric Dolphy,
Hardrive,
Pharoah Sanders,
A Certain Ratio,
Stetsasonic,
The Gories,
Gil Scott Heron,
Andrew Hill,
Black Bananas,
Youth Brigade,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
These Immortal Souls,
Graham Central Station,
Altered Images,
The Grass Roots,
Can,
James Chance & The Contortions,
ABBA,
Robert Wyatt,
Kenny Larkin,
Harry Pussy,
Faraquet,
Scientists,
Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun.
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.