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 Thailand and from Taipei.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Soul II Soul to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Marcia Griffiths. All the underground hits.
All Funky Four + One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Smog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Delon & Dalcan,
A Certain Ratio,
Inner City,
The Fortunes,
These Immortal Souls,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Gong,
Scion,
The Grass Roots,
Gang Green,
New Age Steppers,
Zero Boys,
The Martian,
Aural Exciters,
Pantaleimon,
Arab on Radar,
Ice-T,
Bobby Sherman,
The Angels of Light,
Minny Pops,
Negative Approach,
Frankie Knuckles,
the Sonics,
Brass Construction,
Suburban Knight,
Lucky Dragons,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Marc Almond,
The Searchers,
Avey Tare,
Cheater Slicks,
Agent Orange,
Pantytec,
Hashim,
Moss Icon,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Delta 5,
Boredoms,
Bizarre Inc.,
the Swans,
The Victims,
Pussy Galore,
Tom Boy,
Easy Going,
Smog,
Unrelated Segments,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pylon,
Yellowson,
Nick Fraelich,
Tubeway Army,
Tim Buckley,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Barbara Tucker,
Ohio Players,
Nik Kershaw,
The Beau Brummels,
X-Ray Spex,
Hardrive,
Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force.
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.