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 Kyrgyzstan 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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Delon & Dalcan to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sister Nancy. All the underground hits.
All Michelle Simonal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
New Order,
Public Image Ltd.,
Duran Duran,
Robert Wyatt,
Marmalade,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Echospace,
Adolescents,
Erykah Badu,
Jandek,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Whodini,
48th St. Collective,
Yaz,
Interpol,
Pussy Galore,
The Five Americans,
KRS-One,
Excepter,
a-ha,
F. McDonald,
Howard Jones,
Nas,
Con Funk Shun,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Buckinghams,
The Flesh Eaters,
Delon & Dalcan,
Smog,
Scratch Acid,
Ultra Naté,
Juan Atkins,
Graham Central Station,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bill Near,
Mars,
Archie Shepp,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lower 48,
The Black Dice,
Brand Nubian,
Michelle Simonal,
The Techniques,
Vainqueur,
Dead Boys,
Junior Murvin,
Aswad,
Soft Cell,
The Leaves,
The Star Department,
A Certain Ratio,
Magma,
Gichy Dan,
H. Thieme,
The Gories,
Laurel Aitken,
Schoolly D,
The Gladiators,
The Tremeloes,
Rekid,
Bad Manners,
Big Daddy Kane,
Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar.
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.