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 Halifax.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Technova to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Brick. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blossom Toes 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a PIL record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Move,
Maurizio,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Gap Band,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Steve Hackett,
Nirvana,
The Gories,
Matthew Halsall,
Terry Callier,
Ponytail,
Nas,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Pet Shop Boys,
Lungfish,
Lee Hazlewood,
Idris Muhammad,
Average White Band,
Mantronix,
Theoretical Girls,
Big Daddy Kane,
Skriet,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Star Department,
Soul II Soul,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ludus,
Moebius,
Dawn Penn,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Liliput,
Black Bananas,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Duran Duran,
Donald Byrd,
Glenn Branca,
Livin' Joy,
The Stooges,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Velvet Underground,
Icehouse,
Subhumans,
MC5,
Youth Brigade,
Goldenarms,
X-102,
The Toasters,
Soft Machine,
Japan,
Von Mondo,
Pussy Galore,
Pole,
Andrew Hill,
Swans,
Visage,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Tubeway Army,
Massinfluence,
June of 44,
F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald.
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.