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 Benin and from Tokyo.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Sandy B to the disco 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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All Vainqueur tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a kango's stein massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mummies,
Supertramp,
Flipper,
Altered Images,
The Blackbyrds,
Buzzcocks,
LL Cool J,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Quando Quango,
Brand Nubian,
Roxette,
Todd Rundgren,
The Slits,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Fat Boys,
Connie Case,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Byron Stingily,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Swell Maps,
Josef K,
Warsaw,
The Happenings,
The Detroit Cobras,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ten City,
Chris Corsano,
Jesper Dahlback,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Faraquet,
The Index,
The Stooges,
The Raincoats,
Can,
T. Rex,
Bootsy Collins,
Marine Girls,
H. Thieme,
Urselle,
Wings,
Talk Talk,
Ornette Coleman,
Sexual Harrassment,
Roxy Music,
Make Up,
Goldenarms,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Robert Hood,
Mary Jane Girls,
Slave,
Arcadia,
The Saints,
Gil Scott Heron,
Kool Moe Dee,
Banda Bassotti,
Leonard Cohen,
Jawbox,
Scott Walker,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Loose Ends,
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.