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 Kiribati and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Donald Fagen 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 Jeff Lynne to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Mars. All the underground hits.
All the Swans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Junior Murvin 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Walker Brothers,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Victims,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Man Parrish,
Soulsonic Force,
The Fire Engines,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Gang of Four,
The Gun Club,
Babytalk,
Bobby Byrd,
The Index,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Technova,
Glenn Branca,
Charles Mingus,
Young Marble Giants,
Ludus,
Pulsallama,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gang Starr,
Curtis Mayfield,
Rod Modell,
Avey Tare,
Arthur Verocai,
The Electric Prunes,
The Slackers,
Danielle Patucci,
CMW,
The United States of America,
Nation of Ulysses,
Donny Hathaway,
Unwound,
The Smoke,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
DNA,
Harpers Bizarre,
Massinfluence,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Knickerbockers,
The Move,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Moby Grape,
The Moleskins,
Radiopuhelimet,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Bootsy Collins,
Nico,
Bush Tetras,
Ultra Naté,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Excepter,
Carl Craig,
Masters at Work,
Grey Daturas,
June of 44,
Iggy Pop,
John Foxx,
the Soft Cell,
Neil Young,
Aloha Tigers,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five.
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.