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 Ukraine and from Halifax.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Chris Corsano to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spandau Ballet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Pet Shop Boys,
Barrington Levy,
Arab on Radar,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bauhaus,
Drive Like Jehu,
the Germs,
X-Ray Spex,
Easy Going,
Delta 5,
Theoretical Girls,
Alison Limerick,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Standells,
John Holt,
The Monks,
The Associates,
Mad Mike,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Vladislav Delay,
The Fuzztones,
Marine Girls,
Trumans Water,
Qualms,
Interpol,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Buzzcocks,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Doobie Brothers,
Hoover,
Gang Green,
Delon & Dalcan,
Zero Boys,
Davy DMX,
Roy Ayers,
Unrelated Segments,
The Blackbyrds,
Rod Modell,
Frankie Knuckles,
Johnny Clarke,
David McCallum,
Crispian St. Peters,
Slick Rick,
Rekid,
Sparks,
Mandrill,
Roxy Music,
Jimmy McGriff,
the Association,
Black Moon,
Severed Heads,
The Gap Band,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Tom Boy,
Ultra Naté,
Terry Callier,
The Count Five,
The Techniques,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.