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 Andorra and from Toronto.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Barclay James Harvest to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Althea and Donna. All the underground hits.
All Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David McCallum record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultra Naté,
Danielle Patucci,
Sarah Menescal,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sällskapet,
Jimmy McGriff,
Altered Images,
The Toasters,
Laurel Aitken,
Mission of Burma,
The Barracudas,
Newcleus,
Excepter,
Talk Talk,
Eric Copeland,
The Divine Comedy,
Agitation Free,
Rakim,
Pharoah Sanders,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Main Source,
The Angels of Light,
PIL,
Surgeon,
Malaria!,
Crooked Eye,
the Germs,
The Detroit Cobras,
Buzzcocks,
Index,
Max Romeo,
Essential Logic,
Popol Vuh,
Con Funk Shun,
Pole,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Cheater Slicks,
Funky Four + One,
Nils Olav,
Scott Walker,
The Five Americans,
The Motions,
Barry Ungar,
Letta Mbulu,
The Gladiators,
Amon Düül,
Fear,
Ronnie Foster,
Deadbeat,
Jacob Miller,
The Moleskins,
The Human League,
Mark Hollis,
Urselle,
The Saints,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Pet Shop Boys,
Charles Mingus,
Yusef Lateef,
Johnny Clarke,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Kinks,
Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd.
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.