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 Mauritius and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Milan.
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 chamberlin 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 Mission of Burma to the crunk 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 LL Cool J. All the underground hits.
All The Vogues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Judy Mowatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minor Threat,
Porter Ricks,
Chris Corsano,
The Wake,
Erasure,
Inner City,
Jerry's Kids,
Sun City Girls,
Depeche Mode,
Massinfluence,
Barbara Tucker,
Gil Scott Heron,
the Germs,
Sonic Youth,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
ABC,
Blake Baxter,
Eric Copeland,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Smiths,
David Bowie,
AZ,
Joey Negro,
Intrusion,
Alphaville,
The Last Poets,
Aswad,
The Standells,
Rosa Yemen,
Gang Starr,
Iggy Pop,
Michelle Simonal,
Outsiders,
Scott Walker,
Rod Modell,
Delta 5,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Zeros,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Black Moon,
Youth Brigade,
Fear,
Terry Callier,
Zapp,
Wire,
Popol Vuh,
Ralphi Rosario,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Tropical Tobacco,
Das Ding,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Marc Almond,
Graham Central Station,
Toni Rubio,
Susan Cadogan,
Steve Hackett,
Alison Limerick,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The New Christs,
Slick Rick,
The Star Department,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.