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 United States and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 808 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 Mantronix to the rap 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 Agent Orange. All the underground hits.
All The Fall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wolf Eyes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quadrant,
D'Angelo,
Chrome,
Pet Shop Boys,
World's Most,
The Slits,
the Sonics,
The Fortunes,
Talk Talk,
Make Up,
Tropical Tobacco,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
H. Thieme,
Matthew Bourne,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pere Ubu,
Robert Wyatt,
Ossler,
Archie Shepp,
Agent Orange,
Severed Heads,
MDC,
Tom Boy,
Slave,
Boz Scaggs,
Heaven 17,
Eli Mardock,
Arab on Radar,
Erykah Badu,
The Names,
Delon & Dalcan,
Grandmaster Flash,
Freddie Wadling,
Isaac Hayes,
Essential Logic,
Sight & Sound,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Marc Almond,
The Electric Prunes,
Cameo,
Rekid,
the Slits,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ohio Players,
The Gladiators,
The Leaves,
Crash Course in Science,
The Monks,
Popol Vuh,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
U.S. Maple,
Peter & Gordon,
Kerri Chandler,
The Tremeloes,
Amon Düül II,
Loose Ends,
Urselle,
Livin' Joy,
Niagra,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Echospace,
John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon.
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.