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 Congo and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Cheater Slicks to the techno 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 John Foxx. All the underground hits.
All Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
Ken Boothe,
Bootsy Collins,
Ituana,
Jesper Dahlback,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Gil Scott Heron,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Pagans,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Red Krayola,
The Neon Judgement,
Tom Boy,
The Five Americans,
The Grass Roots,
Lalann,
Gang Starr,
Traffic Nightmare,
Procol Harum,
Warsaw,
The Motions,
The Dead C,
Marvin Gaye,
Flipper,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Tubeway Army,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Urselle,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Barclay James Harvest,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Clear Light,
The Wake,
Interpol,
The Barracudas,
Mary Jane Girls,
Simply Red,
Sexual Harrassment,
John Cale,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Suicide,
The Pop Group,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Eddi Front,
Lower 48,
Nik Kershaw,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Sonics,
Rufus Thomas,
Jeff Mills,
Gregory Isaacs,
Cymande,
Sound Behaviour,
Excepter,
The Slackers,
Black Pus,
Arab on Radar,
The Sound,
The Music Machine,
Thee Headcoats,
Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke.
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.