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 Gambia and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 synthesizer 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 Siglo XX to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Second Layer. All the underground hits.
All Kerri Chandler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Al Stewart,
The Litter,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
AZ,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ituana,
Harpers Bizarre,
Reuben Wilson,
Mark Hollis,
The Moleskins,
Ralphi Rosario,
Stereo Dub,
Au Pairs,
David Axelrod,
The Buckinghams,
Gil Scott Heron,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Altered Images,
James White and The Blacks,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Scott Walker,
Kool Moe Dee,
The American Breed,
Gang Green,
Derrick Morgan,
The Trojans,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Spandau Ballet,
Big Daddy Kane,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Wolf Eyes,
Adolescents,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bluetip,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Graham Central Station,
Pantytec,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
PIL,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Glenn Branca,
Das Ding,
Cheater Slicks,
Morten Harket,
Simply Red,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Moody Blues,
LL Cool J,
Albert Ayler,
Rakim,
The J.B.'s,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Robert Hood,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Symarip,
The Doobie Brothers,
Scion,
X-Ray Spex,
U.S. Maple,
Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord.
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.