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 Sweden and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 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 Little Man to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Spoonie Gee. All the underground hits.
All Archie Shepp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fela Kuti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James Chance & The Contortions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doors,
Ohio Players,
Gang Starr,
the Normal,
The Gladiators,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Grass Roots,
D'Angelo,
June of 44,
Barbara Tucker,
Nik Kershaw,
Man Parrish,
Erasure,
The Offenders,
The Dave Clark Five,
Jawbox,
Buzzcocks,
Supertramp,
Patti Smith,
Fear,
Stetsasonic,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bush Tetras,
Los Fastidios,
The Associates,
X-Ray Spex,
Marcia Griffiths,
Visage,
Donny Hathaway,
Traffic Nightmare,
Blossom Toes,
Loose Ends,
Suburban Knight,
Lee Hazlewood,
Arthur Verocai,
the Slits,
T. Rex,
Kayak,
The Young Rascals,
Little Man,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Mars,
Popol Vuh,
The Trojans,
Altered Images,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Kerrie Biddell,
Quantec,
The Misunderstood,
Kurtis Blow,
Nation of Ulysses,
Soul II Soul,
Procol Harum,
Spandau Ballet,
Bobby Byrd,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Niagra,
Bauhaus,
The Doobie Brothers,
Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls.
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.