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 South Africa and from Mumbai.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 guitar 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 Marc Almond to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Blues Magoos. All the underground hits.
All Television tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rahsaan Roland Kirk 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New York Dolls,
Swell Maps,
D'Angelo,
Sun Ra,
Wally Richardson,
Black Moon,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Danielle Patucci,
Youth Brigade,
The Toasters,
The Vogues,
Warsaw,
Rites of Spring,
Avey Tare,
Adolescents,
X-Ray Spex,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Carl Craig,
Pulsallama,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bauhaus,
Suburban Knight,
Khruangbin,
Bluetip,
Bootsy Collins,
Isaac Hayes,
Skaos,
the Human League,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Neon Judgement,
Animal Collective,
Scan 7,
The Star Department,
Popol Vuh,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Ornette Coleman,
The J.B.'s,
Bad Manners,
Ronnie Foster,
Make Up,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Moebius,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sexual Harrassment,
Cameo,
Curtis Mayfield,
Cybotron,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Chrome,
Aloha Tigers,
Talk Talk,
Funkadelic,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Buzzcocks,
Susan Cadogan,
Icehouse,
Laurel Aitken,
Glambeats Corp.,
Nico,
Unrelated Segments,
JFA,
The Victims,
Fatback Band,
Porter Ricks,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.