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 Syria and from Woodstock.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 John Holt to the dance 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 This Heat. All the underground hits.
All Ralphi Rosario tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joyce Sims record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moleskins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flipper,
Matthew Bourne,
The Slits,
Freddie Wadling,
Todd Rundgren,
Anthony Braxton,
Stetsasonic,
Black Moon,
Aloha Tigers,
Marcia Griffiths,
Nas,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Siglo XX,
The Alarm Clocks,
Icehouse,
Q and Not U,
Flamin' Groovies,
Khruangbin,
Lucky Dragons,
Dark Day,
Bang On A Can,
Moss Icon,
Black Pus,
The Moody Blues,
The Invisible,
The Moleskins,
Fluxion,
OOIOO,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Dave Clark Five,
Tommy Roe,
John Lydon,
Grandmaster Flash,
Whodini,
James White and The Blacks,
Kerri Chandler,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Residents,
Boz Scaggs,
Organ,
Quando Quango,
Pantytec,
Section 25,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Ash Ra Tempel,
PIL,
Wolf Eyes,
Newcleus,
Pere Ubu,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Country Teasers,
Jimmy McGriff,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Duran Duran,
Piero Umiliani,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Camberwell Now,
Mantronix,
Lalann,
Drexciya,
Blancmange,
The Gories,
Roxette, Roxette, Roxette, Roxette.
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.