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 Burundi and from New York.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 guitar 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 Bar-Kays to the grime 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 Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Unrelated Segments tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Five Americans 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Human League,
Porter Ricks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Durutti Column,
China Crisis,
Lungfish,
Nick Fraelich,
Kool Moe Dee,
Graham Central Station,
Rekid,
Pulsallama,
Rhythm & Sound,
Mantronix,
DJ Style,
Todd Terry,
The Young Rascals,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Victims,
Scion,
Easy Going,
Dead Boys,
Bobby Sherman,
Zapp,
Bluetip,
Can,
Public Image Ltd.,
Tomorrow,
Das Ding,
Slave,
Crooked Eye,
Country Teasers,
Radiopuhelimet,
Mo-Dettes,
The Gories,
Terrestrial Tones,
Stereo Dub,
Cameo,
The Sound,
Moss Icon,
Crispy Ambulance,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Kayak,
Pantytec,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Suburban Knight,
Clear Light,
Chris & Cosey,
James Chance & The Contortions,
the Soft Cell,
Gil Scott Heron,
MC5,
Godley & Creme,
Johnny Osbourne,
Reuben Wilson,
Ponytail,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Camberwell Now,
Ornette Coleman,
Thompson Twins,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bizarre Inc.,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.