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 Barbados and from Glasgow.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 arpeggiator 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Ornette Coleman. All the underground hits.
All the Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gories record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flipper,
Steve Hackett,
Rekid,
Whodini,
The Cramps,
Rapeman,
Clear Light,
Crispy Ambulance,
Janne Schatter,
Black Bananas,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Delta 5,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Real Kids,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Radiohead,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Wasted Youth,
Das Ding,
Robert Wyatt,
Liliput,
Faust,
Chris Corsano,
The Busters,
The Five Americans,
Radio Birdman,
cv313,
Robert Görl,
Underground Resistance,
Hardrive,
Deepchord,
Desert Stars,
A Certain Ratio,
The Motions,
Girls At Our Best!,
X-Ray Spex,
Amazonics,
Can,
Sarah Menescal,
Gang of Four,
Rufus Thomas,
Bob Dylan,
Rites of Spring,
Tom Boy,
Bronski Beat,
Curtis Mayfield,
Pierre Henry,
Terrestrial Tones,
Lakeside,
The Mummies,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
John Lydon,
Aloha Tigers,
Sexual Harrassment,
Yazoo,
The Slits,
Metal Thangz,
Altered Images,
Kas Product,
the Bar-Kays,
Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust.
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.