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 St Lucia and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 spring reverb 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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs to the crunk 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 Idris Muhammad. All the underground hits.
All Mad Mike tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Warsaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shoche,
Trumans Water,
Erykah Badu,
Funky Four + One,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sun City Girls,
Zero Boys,
KRS-One,
Skaos,
Flipper,
Model 500,
Wally Richardson,
Malaria!,
Sexual Harrassment,
Surgeon,
Graham Central Station,
Supertramp,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
John Cale,
Slave,
PIL,
Sarah Menescal,
Arab on Radar,
Blake Baxter,
Drexciya,
Gang of Four,
Average White Band,
Heaven 17,
Brand Nubian,
Steve Hackett,
Delta 5,
Rotary Connection,
E-Dancer,
Kayak,
Ultravox,
Marcia Griffiths,
Frankie Knuckles,
Fela Kuti,
Japan,
Alice Coltrane,
Quadrant,
Bobby Womack,
Lalann,
Sister Nancy,
Idris Muhammad,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Black Pus,
Rhythm & Sound,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Funkadelic,
The Smoke,
T.S.O.L.,
Angry Samoans,
Connie Case,
The Alarm Clocks,
Howard Jones,
EPMD,
Mission of Burma,
The Detroit Cobras,
Circle Jerks,
Terrestrial Tones,
Skarface, Skarface, Skarface, Skarface.
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.