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 Yemen and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 linndrum 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 The Blues Magoos to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Banda Bassotti. All the underground hits.
All Magma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Five Americans 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Carl Craig,
Nils Olav,
Sun City Girls,
Soulsonic Force,
The American Breed,
Siglo XX,
Fluxion,
EPMD,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sound Behaviour,
Kaleidoscope,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Sound,
Ultra Naté,
Sex Pistols,
Al Stewart,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Tremeloes,
Judy Mowatt,
Eve St. Jones,
Spandau Ballet,
John Lydon,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pylon,
Niagra,
Stereo Dub,
James White and The Blacks,
Desert Stars,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Aloha Tigers,
The Beau Brummels,
Supertramp,
Terry Callier,
Minutemen,
Kayak,
Marine Girls,
Harpers Bizarre,
Derrick May,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
These Immortal Souls,
Yusef Lateef,
Graham Central Station,
Glenn Branca,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Happenings,
The Golliwogs,
Gang Gang Dance,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Moebius,
Man Parrish,
Alice Coltrane,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Junior Murvin,
Cal Tjader,
Henry Cow,
The Cure,
Pole,
Camberwell Now,
ABBA,
Mantronix,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Q and Not U,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.