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 Korea South and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 güiro 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 8 Eyed Spy to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wasted Youth 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 10cc record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Junior Murvin,
Half Japanese,
Suicide,
Terrestrial Tones,
Barbara Tucker,
Pere Ubu,
Bootsy Collins,
Deepchord,
Pharoah Sanders,
Swans,
The Knickerbockers,
Terry Callier,
Warsaw,
Tears for Fears,
Sällskapet,
L. Decosne,
Zapp,
Malaria!,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Average White Band,
The Durutti Column,
Desert Stars,
Japan,
Whodini,
The Residents,
Pagans,
Nation of Ulysses,
Newcleus,
Eric Copeland,
Derrick Morgan,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
John Foxx,
Kurtis Blow,
Andrew Hill,
Gastr Del Sol,
Dual Sessions,
Morten Harket,
Siglo XX,
Nas,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Electric Prunes,
X-101,
Isaac Hayes,
48th St. Collective,
Rotary Connection,
Fela Kuti,
The Pretty Things,
The Fortunes,
Dark Day,
The Barracudas,
The Wake,
Bobby Sherman,
Marcia Griffiths,
One Last Wish,
Bobby Byrd,
Panda Bear,
Dead Boys,
Deakin,
Second Layer,
The Velvet Underground,
Yaz, Yaz, Yaz, Yaz.
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.