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 Kyrgyzstan and from Manila.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 Michael McDonald 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 Saccharine Trust to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Neon Judgement. All the underground hits.
All Young Marble Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Average White Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pet Shop Boys,
Angry Samoans,
Scientists,
8 Eyed Spy,
Moss Icon,
Accadde A,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Toasters,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Visage,
The Angels of Light,
Maurizio,
Rites of Spring,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Reuben Wilson,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Popol Vuh,
Drexciya,
Bush Tetras,
The Grass Roots,
Lebanon Hanover,
Cheater Slicks,
A Certain Ratio,
The Raincoats,
Magazine,
Von Mondo,
The Monks,
Shuggie Otis,
Erykah Badu,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Pussy Galore,
Yusef Lateef,
Terrestrial Tones,
Juan Atkins,
The Smiths,
Tommy Roe,
Guru Guru,
The United States of America,
Althea and Donna,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
David Axelrod,
Kas Product,
T. Rex,
X-102,
Vainqueur,
Minor Threat,
Howard Jones,
Basic Channel,
Donald Byrd,
Black Moon,
Lalann,
Reagan Youth,
Hardrive,
Drive Like Jehu,
Ohio Players,
Bill Near,
Harpers Bizarre,
DJ Style,
The Names,
Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach.
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.