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 Afghanistan and from Delhi.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Flesh Eaters to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family. All the underground hits.
All Oneida tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang of Four record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Misunderstood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gong,
Ice-T,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Brick,
Sexual Harrassment,
Boz Scaggs,
Carl Craig,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Model 500,
The Gap Band,
Oneida,
Black Bananas,
Minny Pops,
R.M.O.,
The Birthday Party,
the Soft Cell,
Tears for Fears,
B.T. Express,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lalo Schifrin,
Adolescents,
Pantytec,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Spoonie Gee,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gerry Rafferty,
Liliput,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Jeff Mills,
Joyce Sims,
Mo-Dettes,
D'Angelo,
DNA,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Man Parrish,
Porter Ricks,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Victims,
Dave Gahan,
A Certain Ratio,
Danielle Patucci,
The Young Rascals,
Camouflage,
Rakim,
Marvin Gaye,
Eve St. Jones,
Babytalk,
Section 25,
Bauhaus,
Symarip,
Gregory Isaacs,
Moby Grape,
Eric B and Rakim,
Subhumans,
Kevin Saunderson,
Massinfluence,
In Retrospect,
The Moody Blues,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Black Pus,
Leonard Cohen,
Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway.
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.