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 Iran and from Taipei.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Zapp to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All The Walker Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every These Immortal Souls 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a kango's stein massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New York Dolls,
The Selecter,
The Fire Engines,
The Litter,
Albert Ayler,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Index,
Thompson Twins,
Main Source,
Reagan Youth,
Bad Manners,
These Immortal Souls,
The Tremeloes,
The New Christs,
Pantytec,
Slick Rick,
Cecil Taylor,
Soulsonic Force,
Bobby Sherman,
Carl Craig,
Rapeman,
Frankie Knuckles,
T. Rex,
Bronski Beat,
Royal Trux,
Letta Mbulu,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
X-Ray Spex,
Rekid,
Pierre Henry,
One Last Wish,
Japan,
The Fugs,
The Martian,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Wally Richardson,
Ponytail,
Basic Channel,
Big Daddy Kane,
Joy Division,
Bill Wells,
Henry Cow,
Television Personalities,
Massinfluence,
Eli Mardock,
The Real Kids,
Yaz,
Kenny Larkin,
PIL,
Monks,
Funkadelic,
DJ Style,
Bang On A Can,
Monolake,
Can,
The Five Americans,
Avey Tare,
Ultravox,
Alison Limerick,
Sugar Minott,
Sun Ra,
The Pop Group, The Pop Group, The Pop Group, The Pop Group.
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.