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 Cyprus and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 arpeggiator 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 Scrapy to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Lou Reed. All the underground hits.
All David McCallum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pere Ubu,
Procol Harum,
The Pop Group,
Buzzcocks,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Maleditus Sound,
New Age Steppers,
The Mummies,
The Flesh Eaters,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Unwound,
Eurythmics,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Matthew Halsall,
The Slackers,
The Mojo Men,
Skarface,
Lucky Dragons,
The Fortunes,
the Germs,
John Holt,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Gang of Four,
Cymande,
Dead Boys,
John Coltrane,
Prince Buster,
Desert Stars,
Joe Finger,
Lalo Schifrin,
AZ,
Boredoms,
Lyres,
Carl Craig,
Bronski Beat,
The Remains,
Arcadia,
Con Funk Shun,
Bootsy Collins,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Interpol,
Freddie Wadling,
Erykah Badu,
Tropical Tobacco,
Grey Daturas,
The Happenings,
Jimmy McGriff,
Basic Channel,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
X-101,
Wasted Youth,
Main Source,
Babytalk,
June Days,
Patti Smith,
Y Pants,
The Neon Judgement,
Monolake,
The Blackbyrds,
Peter & Gordon,
B.T. Express,
Lalann,
Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims.
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.