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 Afghanistan and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Spokane.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Goldenarms to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Residents. All the underground hits.
All The Move tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blake Baxter 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a CMW record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Remains,
48th St. Collective,
Supertramp,
Technova,
8 Eyed Spy,
Andrew Hill,
Glambeats Corp.,
Ituana,
Metal Thangz,
MDC,
Porter Ricks,
Prince Buster,
Amon Düül II,
Boz Scaggs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Mr. Review,
Niagra,
Wasted Youth,
Bobby Sherman,
Robert Görl,
Crooked Eye,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
David Axelrod,
Black Moon,
These Immortal Souls,
Rapeman,
T.S.O.L.,
Marvin Gaye,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Severed Heads,
Mo-Dettes,
Kerri Chandler,
Minutemen,
Rotary Connection,
The Alarm Clocks,
Judy Mowatt,
James White and The Blacks,
The Neon Judgement,
Sam Rivers,
Wire,
Shuggie Otis,
Organ,
Pantaleimon,
Erykah Badu,
The Music Machine,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Fall,
Scientists,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Roxy Music,
Wally Richardson,
Frankie Knuckles,
Essential Logic,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Quadrant,
Public Enemy,
Interpol,
Symarip,
New Age Steppers,
Matthew Bourne,
Lucky Dragons,
Skarface,
Yaz,
Scan 7, Scan 7, Scan 7, Scan 7.
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.