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 Panama and from Salvador.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 808 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 Judy Mowatt to the rap 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 The Shadows of Knight. All the underground hits.
All Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantaleimon 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camouflage,
Procol Harum,
Crime,
Ken Boothe,
Aswad,
Sonic Youth,
Crooked Eye,
Morten Harket,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ultravox,
Pierre Henry,
Avey Tare,
a-ha,
Severed Heads,
Clear Light,
Oblivians,
Malaria!,
Index,
The Mummies,
The Evens,
The Black Dice,
Adolescents,
Sex Pistols,
Dead Boys,
Cybotron,
Rod Modell,
Unrelated Segments,
The Cramps,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Animal Collective,
Andrew Hill,
Spandau Ballet,
Underground Resistance,
Kas Product,
Dave Gahan,
The Dirtbombs,
Joey Negro,
Black Flag,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
June of 44,
Stiv Bators,
Q and Not U,
Roxy Music,
Man Parrish,
Gong,
The Dave Clark Five,
Icehouse,
Ituana,
Silicon Teens,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Slits,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Tres Demented,
The Electric Prunes,
Drexciya,
The Five Americans,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jeff Lynne,
Davy DMX,
Easy Going,
Agitation Free,
Jeru the Damaja,
Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio.
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.