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 Tajikistan and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and New York.
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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Crispy Ambulance to the techno 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 The Kinks. All the underground hits.
All Deadbeat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Khruangbin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joy Division record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chris Corsano,
Y Pants,
Lightning Bolt,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Pretty Things,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Von Mondo,
Peter and Kerry,
KRS-One,
The Martian,
Blancmange,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Jacob Miller,
Pulsallama,
Bluetip,
The Dave Clark Five,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Marmalade,
Man Parrish,
Cecil Taylor,
Dorothy Ashby,
Amazonics,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Gladiators,
Radio Birdman,
The Dirtbombs,
Faust,
Con Funk Shun,
Fela Kuti,
Can,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Eden Ahbez,
Siglo XX,
Sun City Girls,
Minnie Riperton,
The Dead C,
June Days,
Derrick Morgan,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Blake Baxter,
Colin Newman,
H. Thieme,
Kerri Chandler,
Iggy Pop,
U.S. Maple,
Gabor Szabo,
Hoover,
The Cure,
Severed Heads,
Japan,
Dave Gahan,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Joey Negro,
Essential Logic,
Bootsy Collins,
Pussy Galore,
Second Layer,
Public Enemy,
EPMD,
The Red Krayola,
Monks,
Stiv Bators,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice.
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.