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 Bhutan and from Madrid.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Grauzone to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Bootsy's Rubber Band. All the underground hits.
All The Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Intrusion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Holt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Stooges,
Ultra Naté,
Crispian St. Peters,
8 Eyed Spy,
Little Man,
Black Moon,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Soft Cell,
Yazoo,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Minor Threat,
Schoolly D,
The Gories,
F. McDonald,
Todd Rundgren,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Barbara Tucker,
The Birthday Party,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Nas,
UT,
Sällskapet,
The Sonics,
Delta 5,
H. Thieme,
The Five Americans,
The Skatalites,
This Heat,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Monochrome Set,
Roger Hodgson,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Velvet Underground,
Quadrant,
New Order,
Ken Boothe,
The Flesh Eaters,
These Immortal Souls,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Golliwogs,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Talk Talk,
Mission of Burma,
Guru Guru,
X-102,
Sound Behaviour,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
David Bowie,
Siglo XX,
Oblivians,
Pussy Galore,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Althea and Donna,
Gichy Dan,
Dual Sessions,
Joy Division,
Neu!,
The Raincoats,
Faraquet,
Judy Mowatt,
Harmonia,
Spoonie Gee,
Dave Gahan,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.