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 Sudan and from New York.
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 Seoul and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Lucky Dragons. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fear 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soulsonic Force record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Crooked Eye,
Kerrie Biddell,
Supertramp,
Brass Construction,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Amazonics,
China Crisis,
The Residents,
The Litter,
MC5,
Black Sheep,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Evens,
Mantronix,
Janne Schatter,
Spandau Ballet,
Nas,
Moby Grape,
Can,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Oblivians,
Kerri Chandler,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Neu!,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Clear Light,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Standells,
Bill Wells,
Don Cherry,
the Slits,
Slick Rick,
Alison Limerick,
This Heat,
The Beau Brummels,
Cymande,
Unrelated Segments,
The Moody Blues,
Stockholm Monsters,
Guru Guru,
Mo-Dettes,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Spoonie Gee,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Urselle,
Soft Cell,
The Doors,
Anthony Braxton,
Faust,
Buzzcocks,
Procol Harum,
Man Parrish,
Inner City,
The Birthday Party,
The Count Five,
Bronski Beat,
The Gun Club,
Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee.
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.