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 Dominican Republic and from Johannesburg.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 Lower 48 to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Electric Prunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Qualms,
Magma,
Max Romeo,
Bobby Byrd,
Electric Prunes,
Ultravox,
The Buckinghams,
The Slits,
Soul II Soul,
Hardrive,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Fuzztones,
Pierre Henry,
Derrick Morgan,
UT,
Anthony Braxton,
Absolute Body Control,
JFA,
Nation of Ulysses,
Skaos,
Byron Stingily,
Organ,
Letta Mbulu,
Frankie Knuckles,
Severed Heads,
Grandmaster Flash,
Isaac Hayes,
Con Funk Shun,
Joe Finger,
Eden Ahbez,
Yazoo,
Model 500,
Nas,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Todd Terry,
Reagan Youth,
Skarface,
Roxette,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Niagra,
Newcleus,
Eve St. Jones,
The Zeros,
MC5,
Pole,
Amon Düül,
Echospace,
The Standells,
Ken Boothe,
Toni Rubio,
Can,
48th St. Collective,
Hasil Adkins,
The Angels of Light,
The Velvet Underground,
The United States of America,
Rufus Thomas,
Rosa Yemen,
Supertramp,
Bronski Beat,
Gang Green,
Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy.
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.