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 Latvia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 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 The Techniques to the techno 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 Sixth Finger. All the underground hits.
All Cheater Slicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aloha Tigers,
Scientists,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Circle Jerks,
Byron Stingily,
Blancmange,
This Heat,
Jerry's Kids,
Juan Atkins,
The Tremeloes,
Ludus,
Bobby Byrd,
Sun City Girls,
The Fuzztones,
Public Image Ltd.,
Oneida,
Scion,
Robert Görl,
Rosa Yemen,
John Coltrane,
Minor Threat,
The Leaves,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Roy Ayers,
Rites of Spring,
Alphaville,
Guru Guru,
Pole,
Susan Cadogan,
Harry Pussy,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Arcadia,
Talk Talk,
Essential Logic,
Q65,
James White and The Blacks,
Mark Hollis,
Erasure,
the Germs,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Skriet,
Nik Kershaw,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Rhythm & Sound,
T. Rex,
The Moleskins,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Dorothy Ashby,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Soft Cell,
John Lydon,
Banda Bassotti,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
K-Klass,
Josef K,
The Flesh Eaters,
Crispian St. Peters,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
R.M.O.,
ABC,
Scan 7,
Nation of Ulysses,
Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented.
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.