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 Rwanda and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Big Daddy Kane to the grime 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 Wire. All the underground hits.
All Nirvana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pop Group record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Country Joe & The Fish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Absolute Body Control,
Moby Grape,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Eric Copeland,
Tres Demented,
The Angels of Light,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Oblivians,
Hot Snakes,
Glenn Branca,
Morten Harket,
the Normal,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Last Poets,
The Remains,
The Fortunes,
The Fall,
Vladislav Delay,
Derrick Morgan,
Derrick May,
Hoover,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Spandau Ballet,
Funkadelic,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ice-T,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Crash Course in Science,
Tommy Roe,
Alice Coltrane,
The Doors,
The Red Krayola,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Faust,
The Blackbyrds,
Negative Approach,
ABBA,
John Foxx,
Charles Mingus,
Harmonia,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lou Christie,
Anakelly,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sixth Finger,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Throbbing Gristle,
Kurtis Blow,
Big Daddy Kane,
Donny Hathaway,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ralphi Rosario,
Tom Boy,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio.
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.