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 Turkey and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 sitar 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 Susan Cadogan to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Marine Girls. All the underground hits.
All John Foxx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Anthony Braxton 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Metal Thangz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Frankie Knuckles,
Eddi Front,
John Foxx,
The Sound,
The Detroit Cobras,
Al Stewart,
Animal Collective,
Blancmange,
L. Decosne,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Offenders,
Talk Talk,
Slick Rick,
Thee Headcoats,
Sister Nancy,
Jandek,
Rotary Connection,
Popol Vuh,
Ohio Players,
Kerri Chandler,
Royal Trux,
Nirvana,
Lightning Bolt,
Arcadia,
This Heat,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Agitation Free,
a-ha,
Lalo Schifrin,
Rapeman,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Joy Division,
Parry Music,
Fat Boys,
The Shadows of Knight,
Stockholm Monsters,
Scientists,
DJ Sneak,
Rod Modell,
Swell Maps,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
David Axelrod,
Groovy Waters,
Tubeway Army,
The Residents,
Kaleidoscope,
June of 44,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Neil Young,
Pole,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Beau Brummels,
Wolf Eyes,
Iggy Pop,
Glambeats Corp.,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Danielle Patucci,
Max Romeo,
Intrusion,
Niagra, Niagra, Niagra, Niagra.
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.