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 Sudan and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 guitar 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 Eurythmics to the punk 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 K-Klass. All the underground hits.
All Spoonie Gee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terry Callier record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gregory Isaacs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric Copeland,
Moby Grape,
Whodini,
The Last Poets,
The Saints,
Jacques Brel,
Bush Tetras,
the Swans,
Fluxion,
Kaleidoscope,
Country Teasers,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Smog,
Pantytec,
Robert Hood,
Curtis Mayfield,
John Lydon,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Crispian St. Peters,
Half Japanese,
Idris Muhammad,
Bauhaus,
Sarah Menescal,
La Düsseldorf,
MDC,
the Normal,
World's Most,
Angry Samoans,
Bobby Sherman,
Deakin,
Ken Boothe,
The Remains,
Stockholm Monsters,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Main Source,
Mr. Review,
Roger Hodgson,
Pulsallama,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Chris & Cosey,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Electric Prunes,
Flash Fearless,
Crooked Eye,
The Pop Group,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Neon Judgement,
Aural Exciters,
Essential Logic,
These Immortal Souls,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Cure,
Soft Cell,
Jerry's Kids,
Maleditus Sound,
In Retrospect,
Skaos,
U.S. Maple,
Royal Trux,
Youth Brigade,
The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column.
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.