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 Brazil and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the rock 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 The Names. All the underground hits.
All Swell Maps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra Arkestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultra Naté,
Urselle,
Outsiders,
Eric Copeland,
Ronan,
Radio Birdman,
Theoretical Girls,
Carl Craig,
Country Teasers,
Lou Christie,
Aswad,
Alison Limerick,
Maurizio,
Swell Maps,
Half Japanese,
Terrestrial Tones,
Cal Tjader,
Isaac Hayes,
The Monks,
The Raincoats,
the Normal,
Subhumans,
Lalann,
The Slackers,
Newcleus,
Marshall Jefferson,
Vladislav Delay,
Talk Talk,
Malaria!,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Crash Course in Science,
Bobby Sherman,
The Remains,
Roger Hodgson,
Altered Images,
the Association,
Pere Ubu,
The Victims,
Prince Buster,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Marine Girls,
Cymande,
Sugar Minott,
Hashim,
Sex Pistols,
Public Enemy,
Eden Ahbez,
Khruangbin,
Unwound,
T.S.O.L.,
H. Thieme,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Smoke,
Oblivians,
Japan,
Yaz,
F. McDonald,
The Skatalites,
Ludus,
Duran Duran,
Traffic Nightmare,
Moss Icon,
Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms.
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.