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 Thailand and from Beijing.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Q65 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 It's A Beautiful Day. All the underground hits.
All Newcleus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barclay James Harvest record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alphaville,
The Selecter,
Tropical Tobacco,
Maurizio,
Nick Fraelich,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Technova,
FM Einheit,
Bronski Beat,
Blossom Toes,
8 Eyed Spy,
Japan,
Funky Four + One,
Slick Rick,
Subhumans,
Drexciya,
Mo-Dettes,
Model 500,
Kerri Chandler,
Deakin,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pylon,
The Dead C,
Masters at Work,
Barry Ungar,
X-101,
UT,
The Divine Comedy,
Sister Nancy,
Pharoah Sanders,
Can,
Tommy Roe,
Andrew Hill,
The Standells,
Davy DMX,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Black Dice,
David Axelrod,
The Last Poets,
Yaz,
Visage,
Radiohead,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Skaos,
Interpol,
Severed Heads,
The New Christs,
Gang of Four,
The Red Krayola,
T. Rex,
The Tremeloes,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sonic Youth,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Scion,
Sun City Girls,
Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader.
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.