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 Comoros and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu to the rap 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 Ten City. All the underground hits.
All Aloha Tigers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rotary Connection record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
UT,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Bush Tetras,
Bobby Sherman,
Barrington Levy,
Index,
Clear Light,
Freddie Wadling,
The Mojo Men,
Bobby Womack,
Sly & The Family Stone,
the Association,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Marmalade,
Duran Duran,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Fuzztones,
Newcleus,
Todd Terry,
Suburban Knight,
Pantytec,
Cal Tjader,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Seeds,
Warsaw,
Kevin Saunderson,
Sixth Finger,
Pierre Henry,
Lyres,
Y Pants,
Fatback Band,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Toasters,
Urselle,
Grauzone,
Essential Logic,
Tommy Roe,
Robert Hood,
Camberwell Now,
Harry Pussy,
June of 44,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
China Crisis,
Quantec,
Donald Byrd,
Grandmaster Flash,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Flash Fearless,
Saccharine Trust,
Lalann,
Ralphi Rosario,
Popol Vuh,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Adolescents,
Johnny Osbourne,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
New Order,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth.
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.