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 Iran and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 theremin 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 Rod Modell to the rap 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 Prince Buster. All the underground hits.
All Intrusion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fire Engines 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 a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ten City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
Monks,
Derrick May,
Warsaw,
Warren Ellis,
Man Eating Sloth,
Radio Birdman,
Soft Machine,
Ornette Coleman,
Tommy Roe,
Agitation Free,
the Swans,
Mark Hollis,
Godley & Creme,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Severed Heads,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Techniques,
Crispian St. Peters,
Wally Richardson,
Kurtis Blow,
New Age Steppers,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
John Coltrane,
Magma,
Adolescents,
Cecil Taylor,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Standells,
Funky Four + One,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
H. Thieme,
The Remains,
Peter and Kerry,
The Monochrome Set,
The Monks,
Arcadia,
The Doobie Brothers,
Kayak,
Scratch Acid,
The Fall,
Stetsasonic,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Whodini,
The Sonics,
Popol Vuh,
Brass Construction,
FM Einheit,
Lower 48,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Five Americans,
Delon & Dalcan,
Robert Wyatt,
Tears for Fears,
Brothers Johnson,
Laurel Aitken,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Stiv Bators,
Lyres,
Con Funk Shun,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Guru Guru,
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.