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 Ghana and from Stockholm.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Rakim to the disco 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 Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Lebanon Hanover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stiv Bators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
Todd Rundgren,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ken Boothe,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bizarre Inc.,
Stereo Dub,
Tommy Roe,
Robert Wyatt,
Ponytail,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Newcleus,
F. McDonald,
Rapeman,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Fluxion,
Jimmy McGriff,
Swell Maps,
Warsaw,
The Black Dice,
Youth Brigade,
Darondo,
T.S.O.L.,
Rites of Spring,
CMW,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ronnie Foster,
Animal Collective,
Black Sheep,
Masters at Work,
The Toasters,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
John Foxx,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Iggy Pop,
Kerri Chandler,
Theoretical Girls,
Johnny Clarke,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Lou Christie,
Ituana,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Moby Grape,
Janne Schatter,
Qualms,
DNA,
Hot Snakes,
Pharoah Sanders,
Marmalade,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Cramps,
Gang of Four,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Gun Club,
The Invisible,
8 Eyed Spy,
Popol Vuh,
Frankie Knuckles,
Gang Starr,
Be Bop Deluxe,
ABC,
The Mummies,
Pole,
Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth.
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.