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 Iceland and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 güiro 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 Agent Orange to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Eric Copeland. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ohio Players record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brass Construction record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mary Jane Girls,
Johnny Clarke,
The Red Krayola,
Faraquet,
Man Eating Sloth,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bad Manners,
Excepter,
Television,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Nation of Ulysses,
Spoonie Gee,
the Association,
Minny Pops,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
X-101,
Barclay James Harvest,
David Bowie,
Carl Craig,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Tremeloes,
Technova,
Mr. Review,
Harmonia,
Radiopuhelimet,
DNA,
Todd Rundgren,
In Retrospect,
Main Source,
K-Klass,
New York Dolls,
Alphaville,
Japan,
Ronan,
Dead Boys,
The Count Five,
Gichy Dan,
Black Pus,
The Selecter,
Jacques Brel,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Gang Starr,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Newcleus,
The Litter,
The Seeds,
Sister Nancy,
Susan Cadogan,
Depeche Mode,
Hashim,
Unwound,
Altered Images,
Suicide,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Durutti Column,
B.T. Express,
Chrome,
Ohio Players,
Bluetip,
Bang On A Can,
Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro.
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.