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 Papua New Guinea and from Tokyo.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 CMW to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Echo & the Bunnymen. All the underground hits.
All Charles Mingus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Inner City record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Move record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boz Scaggs,
Qualms,
Heaven 17,
Althea and Donna,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Crash Course in Science,
Harpers Bizarre,
Oneida,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Interpol,
Spoonie Gee,
Howard Jones,
Popol Vuh,
The Misunderstood,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Blancmange,
Erasure,
The Fortunes,
Brass Construction,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Letta Mbulu,
Deepchord,
Jawbox,
The Blues Magoos,
Piero Umiliani,
Marvin Gaye,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Cal Tjader,
Joensuu 1685,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Barry Ungar,
The Martian,
Pylon,
One Last Wish,
Guru Guru,
Von Mondo,
Thee Headcoats,
AZ,
OOIOO,
Nirvana,
the Slits,
Charles Mingus,
Delon & Dalcan,
Throbbing Gristle,
Dead Boys,
Tom Boy,
Tears for Fears,
Archie Shepp,
Sister Nancy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Aswad,
Mary Jane Girls,
Parry Music,
Easy Going,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Rites of Spring,
the Normal,
Sparks,
Rufus Thomas,
MDC,
The Dead C,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.