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 Australia and from Mumbai.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Pere Ubu to the electroclash 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 Joensuu 1685. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gary Puckett & The Union Gap record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
DJ Style,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Cramps,
Cluster,
Fat Boys,
Ultravox,
Avey Tare,
The Red Krayola,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Intrusion,
Andrew Hill,
Traffic Nightmare,
Outsiders,
Albert Ayler,
Bill Near,
Matthew Halsall,
Jeff Mills,
Funky Four + One,
Chris & Cosey,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Dead Boys,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Marshall Jefferson,
Simply Red,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Smiths,
Television Personalities,
Groovy Waters,
Agitation Free,
Livin' Joy,
Jeff Lynne,
Sam Rivers,
Porter Ricks,
Bootsy Collins,
Dawn Penn,
Shoche,
Big Daddy Kane,
Faust,
Tubeway Army,
These Immortal Souls,
Hashim,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Misunderstood,
Yaz,
Godley & Creme,
Gil Scott Heron,
Roy Ayers,
Dennis Brown,
Ituana,
Marvin Gaye,
Y Pants,
Al Stewart,
Minnie Riperton,
Technova,
the Normal,
Pole,
Youth Brigade,
Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin.
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.