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 China and from Accra.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Mexico City.
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 organ 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 Stereo Dub to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Gang Starr. All the underground hits.
All Gastr Del Sol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kevin Saunderson 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heaven 17 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Altered Images,
Kurtis Blow,
Swell Maps,
Bob Dylan,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Josef K,
The Last Poets,
Stetsasonic,
Rakim,
Mission of Burma,
Joe Finger,
Eric Copeland,
Procol Harum,
Make Up,
Grauzone,
Cybotron,
The Mojo Men,
Jimmy McGriff,
Magma,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
X-Ray Spex,
Eddi Front,
Godley & Creme,
Erasure,
Peter & Gordon,
The Five Americans,
Mary Jane Girls,
Duran Duran,
Flipper,
Dead Boys,
Mark Hollis,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Main Source,
UT,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Pretty Things,
Ultravox,
Bang On A Can,
Cal Tjader,
Skriet,
Dorothy Ashby,
Rosa Yemen,
Eden Ahbez,
The Sound,
Alphaville,
Mandrill,
48th St. Collective,
The Durutti Column,
One Last Wish,
Althea and Donna,
Crime,
Icehouse,
Henry Cow,
James White and The Blacks,
Yusef Lateef,
Tim Buckley,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sister Nancy,
Spandau Ballet,
Sam Rivers,
Jacques Brel,
New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers.
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.