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 Cameroon and from Madrid.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Qualms to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angels of Light & Akron/Family 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blake Baxter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fugs,
The Moleskins,
Kayak,
Radiopuhelimet,
Tears for Fears,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Scientists,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Second Layer,
the Bar-Kays,
Warren Ellis,
Johnny Clarke,
Barrington Levy,
Pulsallama,
Organ,
Funkadelic,
Ludus,
Heaven 17,
Section 25,
Darondo,
Spoonie Gee,
The Doors,
Porter Ricks,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Mandrill,
The Fire Engines,
DNA,
The Count Five,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Moody Blues,
Archie Shepp,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Laurel Aitken,
The Offenders,
Rekid,
Unwound,
Roy Ayers,
Delon & Dalcan,
John Holt,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Marvin Gaye,
Gang of Four,
Glenn Branca,
Max Romeo,
The Happenings,
Index,
Television,
Quando Quango,
Jesper Dahlback,
Talk Talk,
Crime,
Angry Samoans,
John Coltrane,
Chrome,
Amon Düül,
Crooked Eye,
New Order,
Ultimate Spinach,
Soft Machine,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Names, The Names, The Names, The Names.
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.