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 Sri Lanka and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 Madrid and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 mellotron 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 Eric B and Rakim to the rap 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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Q and Not U 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sly & The Family Stone,
In Retrospect,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Roy Ayers,
Bobby Byrd,
The Cramps,
The Happenings,
Section 25,
The Names,
Pharoah Sanders,
D'Angelo,
the Swans,
UT,
The Pop Group,
MDC,
Groovy Waters,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Wasted Youth,
James White and The Blacks,
The Offenders,
Joyce Sims,
The Blackbyrds,
Marvin Gaye,
Reagan Youth,
Livin' Joy,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Alarm Clocks,
Alice Coltrane,
Ronan,
The Dead C,
Junior Murvin,
Robert Görl,
Altered Images,
Pantytec,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Fuzztones,
The Cowsills,
Juan Atkins,
Sonny Sharrock,
Steve Hackett,
The Zeros,
The J.B.'s,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
David Bowie,
Crime,
Soulsonic Force,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Cecil Taylor,
Outsiders,
The Toasters,
Donald Byrd,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
EPMD,
Black Flag,
Hardrive,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Intrusion,
Don Cherry,
Sex Pistols,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia.
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.