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 Dominican Republic and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Heaven 17 to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Maleditus Sound. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lee Hazlewood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Trojans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Easy Going,
Kerrie Biddell,
Be Bop Deluxe,
48th St. Collective,
Index,
Basic Channel,
Cymande,
Crispian St. Peters,
Dawn Penn,
Ralphi Rosario,
Dead Boys,
Von Mondo,
The Walker Brothers,
The Fire Engines,
Pole,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Khruangbin,
CMW,
The Trojans,
Masters at Work,
Vainqueur,
Hot Snakes,
Smog,
Joe Smooth,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Grey Daturas,
Slick Rick,
Wolf Eyes,
Parry Music,
Fat Boys,
The Skatalites,
Eve St. Jones,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Barrington Levy,
Pantytec,
Malaria!,
Blancmange,
Black Flag,
The Kinks,
Schoolly D,
The Barracudas,
Tubeway Army,
The Blackbyrds,
Outsiders,
Freddie Wadling,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Boogie Down Productions,
Mars,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Pop Group,
Harpers Bizarre,
Yaz,
Ronan,
D'Angelo,
Wings,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Move,
Oblivians,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Modern Lovers,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.