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 Belize 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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Television Personalities to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Nils Olav. All the underground hits.
All Cal Tjader tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tommy Roe,
Lou Reed,
The Cowsills,
Sex Pistols,
Colin Newman,
B.T. Express,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ituana,
Letta Mbulu,
The Standells,
Rotary Connection,
The Knickerbockers,
Brass Construction,
Kerrie Biddell,
Piero Umiliani,
Hasil Adkins,
Faraquet,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bad Manners,
Ultimate Spinach,
Rapeman,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Tubeway Army,
Echospace,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The American Breed,
The Monochrome Set,
Stiv Bators,
Saccharine Trust,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Slackers,
Sight & Sound,
The Mojo Men,
The Remains,
AZ,
Mandrill,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
U.S. Maple,
Barclay James Harvest,
Eurythmics,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Names,
Pole,
Sixth Finger,
Steve Hackett,
Girls At Our Best!,
Skaos,
Can,
The Detroit Cobras,
T. Rex,
The Techniques,
China Crisis,
Pussy Galore,
Hardrive,
Japan,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Wake,
Ten City,
Sugar Minott,
Drexciya,
Davy DMX,
Chris & Cosey,
Zapp,
Eric B and Rakim,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.