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 Burundi and from New York.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Lucky Dragons. All the underground hits.
All Youth Brigade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monolake record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ajijia Myrayebe,
These Immortal Souls,
Marine Girls,
The Gladiators,
The Knickerbockers,
Crash Course in Science,
Thompson Twins,
Sister Nancy,
Blancmange,
Arcadia,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ludus,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Golliwogs,
Barclay James Harvest,
Stiv Bators,
The Victims,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Pylon,
Pole,
Bob Dylan,
The Sound,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Dave Clark Five,
Basic Channel,
The Blues Magoos,
Robert Hood,
Suicide,
Jerry's Kids,
Eric Dolphy,
Heaven 17,
Flipper,
Blake Baxter,
Barry Ungar,
The Monks,
Max Romeo,
The Trojans,
Young Marble Giants,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Moebius,
Quadrant,
the Association,
Rites of Spring,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Lungfish,
Jacques Brel,
Mission of Burma,
Unrelated Segments,
Chris & Cosey,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
EPMD,
Frankie Knuckles,
L. Decosne,
Funkadelic,
Cameo,
Sexual Harrassment,
Crooked Eye,
Eli Mardock,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Los Fastidios,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Radio Birdman,
James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions.
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.