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 Solomon Islands and from Accra.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Standells to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Section 25. All the underground hits.
All Sällskapet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ice-T record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Youth Brigade,
the Fania All-Stars,
Scion,
Erykah Badu,
John Holt,
the Human League,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Fugazi,
Technova,
Underground Resistance,
Minor Threat,
Gichy Dan,
World's Most,
Delon & Dalcan,
This Heat,
Easy Going,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Wire,
Blake Baxter,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Sparks,
Interpol,
Masters at Work,
Skarface,
Cybotron,
Malaria!,
Crooked Eye,
Morten Harket,
Dual Sessions,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Dorothy Ashby,
Danielle Patucci,
Gabor Szabo,
Zero Boys,
Sun Ra,
The Electric Prunes,
Bad Manners,
The Skatalites,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The New Christs,
The Fire Engines,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Rosa Yemen,
Jerry's Kids,
Pussy Galore,
Motorama,
Piero Umiliani,
Marine Girls,
Pole,
Q and Not U,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Kaleidoscope,
The Misunderstood,
The Toasters,
Thompson Twins,
Main Source,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sun City Girls,
Country Teasers,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Flipper,
John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane.
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.