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 Kuwait and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 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 The Slits to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Depeche Mode. All the underground hits.
All The Electric Prunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlback record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minnie Riperton,
Amon Düül II,
DJ Style,
LL Cool J,
Gabor Szabo,
Skaos,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Piero Umiliani,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
AZ,
Colin Newman,
Skarface,
Tubeway Army,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ultra Naté,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Agent Orange,
Moss Icon,
Saccharine Trust,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Andrew Hill,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Red Krayola,
Rosa Yemen,
the Sonics,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Terry Callier,
Mars,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
10cc,
Brothers Johnson,
Hashim,
Bobby Byrd,
Aural Exciters,
Liliput,
Amazonics,
Lalann,
Magazine,
The Trojans,
Robert Hood,
Urselle,
Cybotron,
Electric Prunes,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Pole,
Robert Wyatt,
Deepchord,
Japan,
Ultravox,
Charles Mingus,
Bluetip,
Sight & Sound,
Alphaville,
John Coltrane,
The Tremeloes,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lou Christie,
Tomorrow,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Velvet Underground,
Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack.
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.