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 Belarus and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Gichy Dan to the rap 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 Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All Man Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ludus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
The Fortunes,
The Raincoats,
Stetsasonic,
Godley & Creme,
Jacques Brel,
Kayak,
Cecil Taylor,
Matthew Halsall,
Anakelly,
The Knickerbockers,
Man Parrish,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Parry Music,
Eric Copeland,
The Moody Blues,
Black Pus,
DJ Style,
The Smiths,
Sister Nancy,
Darondo,
Sight & Sound,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Max Romeo,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Q65,
Main Source,
The Martian,
Hasil Adkins,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Dorothy Ashby,
Television Personalities,
The Moleskins,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Cramps,
John Coltrane,
Gang Starr,
Pantaleimon,
Altered Images,
Agent Orange,
Marmalade,
Maleditus Sound,
Bootsy Collins,
Tres Demented,
Excepter,
Jeru the Damaja,
Electric Prunes,
Peter & Gordon,
Metal Thangz,
The Seeds,
One Last Wish,
Hot Snakes,
Boz Scaggs,
The Divine Comedy,
Wire,
Prince Buster,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Cowsills,
Blossom Toes,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Neu!,
James White and The Blacks,
Neil Young,
Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster.
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.