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 Azerbaijan and from Toronto.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Columbus.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Zeros to the grunge 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 the Swans. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Altered Images record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eurythmics,
Todd Terry,
Unwound,
Massinfluence,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sandy B,
Todd Rundgren,
Organ,
Agent Orange,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
June of 44,
the Bar-Kays,
Silicon Teens,
KRS-One,
Girls At Our Best!,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Pretty Things,
The Slits,
Bush Tetras,
Television Personalities,
The Cure,
Crispian St. Peters,
Fugazi,
Sonny Sharrock,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Scott Walker,
Porter Ricks,
Sexual Harrassment,
Wire,
Lalann,
Popol Vuh,
Suicide,
In Retrospect,
Black Sheep,
The Zeros,
These Immortal Souls,
Johnny Clarke,
Eric B and Rakim,
Smog,
The Fall,
Talk Talk,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Unrelated Segments,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Nirvana,
Skarface,
Arcadia,
MDC,
Pussy Galore,
Banda Bassotti,
Dawn Penn,
Nation of Ulysses,
B.T. Express,
Sister Nancy,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mission of Burma,
the Normal,
Depeche Mode,
Public Enemy,
Reuben Wilson,
Yellowson,
Whodini,
Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins.
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.