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 Senegal and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 mellotron 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 Saccharine Trust to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Suicide. All the underground hits.
All The Sisters of Mercy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yellowson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharoah Sanders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Nils Olav,
Gregory Isaacs,
Fear,
Johnny Clarke,
Terry Callier,
Ice-T,
Adolescents,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Kinks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Faraquet,
Throbbing Gristle,
Barclay James Harvest,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Fluxion,
Porter Ricks,
Visage,
The Leaves,
Swell Maps,
The Monochrome Set,
The Sound,
The Smoke,
E-Dancer,
Oblivians,
The Monks,
Michelle Simonal,
Dead Boys,
The Raincoats,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Names,
Mo-Dettes,
The Human League,
Sandy B,
Rites of Spring,
The Buckinghams,
Todd Terry,
Idris Muhammad,
Khruangbin,
Kool Moe Dee,
Judy Mowatt,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Johnny Osbourne,
Trumans Water,
Monolake,
Spandau Ballet,
Scratch Acid,
David Bowie,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
K-Klass,
Dorothy Ashby,
Blake Baxter,
Derrick May,
Byron Stingily,
Dennis Brown,
Bobby Sherman,
Minny Pops,
Agent Orange,
Scientists,
the Soft Cell,
Sugar Minott,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.