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 Costa Rica and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 guitar 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 Y Pants to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & Metallica tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nation of Ulysses record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
the Germs,
Can,
Vladislav Delay,
World's Most,
Funky Four + One,
Sixth Finger,
the Slits,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Mars,
The New Christs,
Blake Baxter,
Arthur Verocai,
Cheater Slicks,
Bush Tetras,
Qualms,
Eddi Front,
Ituana,
Make Up,
Schoolly D,
Guru Guru,
Joensuu 1685,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
the Normal,
Nick Fraelich,
Moss Icon,
8 Eyed Spy,
Inner City,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Amazonics,
Neu!,
Masters at Work,
Erasure,
Wolf Eyes,
Zero Boys,
The J.B.'s,
Interpol,
Eric Dolphy,
The Motions,
Angry Samoans,
Frankie Knuckles,
Tom Boy,
Wings,
Todd Rundgren,
Soft Machine,
Ultra Naté,
Visage,
This Heat,
Nas,
Andrew Hill,
Eric Copeland,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Arab on Radar,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Names,
Gichy Dan,
Gerry Rafferty,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Matthew Bourne,
Barrington Levy,
Depeche Mode,
Suburban Knight,
Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims.
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.