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 Denmark and from Manchester.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 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 The Royal Family And The Poor to the techno 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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Ultravox tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roxy Music record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arthur Verocai,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Red Krayola,
Thompson Twins,
The Angels of Light,
John Cale,
Lalo Schifrin,
Black Bananas,
Beasts of Bourbon,
DJ Style,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Popol Vuh,
Carl Craig,
China Crisis,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Essential Logic,
Cal Tjader,
Mr. Review,
Jerry Gold Smith,
MC5,
F. McDonald,
the Swans,
Judy Mowatt,
Underground Resistance,
Brothers Johnson,
Bizarre Inc.,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Qualms,
Fela Kuti,
Jacob Miller,
Sam Rivers,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Deakin,
Robert Hood,
Oblivians,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Absolute Body Control,
Crash Course in Science,
Country Teasers,
Harry Pussy,
Prince Buster,
Derrick Morgan,
Nik Kershaw,
The Fortunes,
The Toasters,
Soft Cell,
Erykah Badu,
The Wake,
Banda Bassotti,
Graham Central Station,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Hardrive,
Sugar Minott,
Saccharine Trust,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Radiohead,
Gang Starr,
Massinfluence,
John Coltrane,
Peter & Gordon,
Japan,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.