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 Australia and from Accra.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Monks to the crunk 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 The Martian. All the underground hits.
All B.T. Express tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Altered Images record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Godley & Creme,
The Gladiators,
Funkadelic,
Hasil Adkins,
Kool Moe Dee,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Franke,
Gichy Dan,
Heaven 17,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
F. McDonald,
Freddie Wadling,
Dorothy Ashby,
Aural Exciters,
Laurel Aitken,
The Skatalites,
Black Bananas,
Joe Smooth,
Johnny Clarke,
Judy Mowatt,
Youth Brigade,
China Crisis,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Joyce Sims,
Yazoo,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Gun Club,
Joy Division,
Fluxion,
The Leaves,
Japan,
The Seeds,
Donny Hathaway,
Jawbox,
Kerrie Biddell,
Crime,
Byron Stingily,
Mo-Dettes,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Panda Bear,
Crooked Eye,
Lalann,
Surgeon,
Minutemen,
The Cowsills,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Delta 5,
Nico,
The Trojans,
Royal Trux,
The Beau Brummels,
Curtis Mayfield,
Soul II Soul,
Danielle Patucci,
The New Christs,
New York Dolls,
New Order,
Wire,
UT,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters.
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.