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 Botswana and from Beijing.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Reagan Youth to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Agitation Free. All the underground hits.
All June Days tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Pus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Infiniti,
The Barracudas,
Glambeats Corp.,
Man Parrish,
Johnny Clarke,
Mary Jane Girls,
Altered Images,
Mission of Burma,
Wolf Eyes,
John Holt,
Ossler,
Idris Muhammad,
Jeff Lynne,
Max Romeo,
Tropical Tobacco,
Pantytec,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Howard Jones,
The Last Poets,
Marc Almond,
Banda Bassotti,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pere Ubu,
Pole,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Jawbox,
Rhythm & Sound,
Rekid,
Ultimate Spinach,
Surgeon,
Sparks,
Mandrill,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Massinfluence,
Letta Mbulu,
Bad Manners,
Lower 48,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Funky Four + One,
Schoolly D,
Con Funk Shun,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
David Axelrod,
Simply Red,
Skaos,
The Zeros,
Stiv Bators,
Y Pants,
Subhumans,
Inner City,
The Moleskins,
Electric Prunes,
Curtis Mayfield,
Terrestrial Tones,
Thompson Twins,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Offenders,
the Germs,
Underground Resistance,
Fat Boys,
Flipper,
The Busters,
Thee Headcoats,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.