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 Pakistan and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 clarinet 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 Stiv Bators to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Blues Magoos. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blake Baxter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Intrusion,
Crash Course in Science,
Bush Tetras,
Gastr Del Sol,
Minor Threat,
Todd Terry,
Glenn Branca,
The Gap Band,
Scratch Acid,
Dorothy Ashby,
Smog,
Sex Pistols,
Lower 48,
Fluxion,
Tubeway Army,
Japan,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Joey Negro,
Technova,
Lyres,
the Bar-Kays,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Suburban Knight,
Tom Boy,
Eve St. Jones,
Oblivians,
Niagra,
The Doobie Brothers,
Lungfish,
Albert Ayler,
Soul II Soul,
Babytalk,
Rekid,
Wasted Youth,
Nas,
Gang of Four,
Pere Ubu,
Rotary Connection,
Al Stewart,
F. McDonald,
Byron Stingily,
Erykah Badu,
Pylon,
Inner City,
World's Most,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Matthew Halsall,
Lou Christie,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Invisible,
Von Mondo,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Malaria!,
Pantytec,
The Litter,
Carl Craig,
Organ,
Joe Smooth,
The Star Department,
Second Layer,
Flipper,
Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan.
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.