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 Equatorial Guinea and from Cairo.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Bologna.
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 spring reverb 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 The Selecter to the dance 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 Scratch Acid. All the underground hits.
All The Smiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lizzy Mercier Descloux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Adolescents,
Janne Schatter,
Amazonics,
The Fuzztones,
48th St. Collective,
The Red Krayola,
Eli Mardock,
The Smoke,
Max Romeo,
Unrelated Segments,
Sugar Minott,
Icehouse,
the Sonics,
Sixth Finger,
Livin' Joy,
The Young Rascals,
Sam Rivers,
Black Bananas,
Gil Scott Heron,
Davy DMX,
Joy Division,
Deepchord,
Scan 7,
Mantronix,
H. Thieme,
Q and Not U,
Grey Daturas,
Joe Finger,
The Birthday Party,
The Kinks,
T.S.O.L.,
David Bowie,
Kurtis Blow,
Throbbing Gristle,
Big Daddy Kane,
Erasure,
Glenn Branca,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Toni Rubio,
Joensuu 1685,
Kayak,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Blues Magoos,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Gun Club,
Letta Mbulu,
the Association,
Brick,
Fluxion,
Quando Quango,
Peter & Gordon,
Kerri Chandler,
The Tremeloes,
The Flesh Eaters,
Interpol,
Sun City Girls,
The Misunderstood,
The Gap Band,
Curtis Mayfield,
Section 25,
Aloha Tigers,
Agent Orange,
Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells.
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.