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 Armenia and from Winnipeg.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Boz Scaggs to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All Moby Grape tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cure 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gabor Szabo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Arthur Verocai,
Ohio Players,
Max Romeo,
Kurtis Blow,
Joy Division,
Country Teasers,
The Young Rascals,
The Last Poets,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Busters,
Ultravox,
Blossom Toes,
Cybotron,
Tim Buckley,
48th St. Collective,
Warren Ellis,
Laurel Aitken,
Mark Hollis,
The Sonics,
Eli Mardock,
John Foxx,
MC5,
The Fortunes,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Alison Limerick,
Sonic Youth,
The Star Department,
Bobby Sherman,
The Modern Lovers,
Connie Case,
Second Layer,
Deadbeat,
Joe Finger,
Q65,
The Fugs,
Big Daddy Kane,
Aloha Tigers,
The Slits,
LL Cool J,
Chrome,
The Slackers,
New Order,
Scrapy,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Nick Fraelich,
CMW,
This Heat,
World's Most,
Scan 7,
X-102,
Tropical Tobacco,
Oneida,
The Pop Group,
Wire,
Blake Baxter,
Sex Pistols,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Jacob Miller,
Agent Orange,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.