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 Switzerland and from Spokane.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Bologna.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Pagans to the rap 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 Gang of Four. All the underground hits.
All Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
PIL,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Minnie Riperton,
Swans,
John Lydon,
Hardrive,
F. McDonald,
The Mummies,
Cybotron,
Bang On A Can,
The Cowsills,
Cecil Taylor,
This Heat,
Mr. Review,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ultravox,
Index,
Sexual Harrassment,
Beasts of Bourbon,
ABBA,
Crooked Eye,
The Fuzztones,
The Offenders,
Terry Callier,
The Moody Blues,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lou Reed,
Joyce Sims,
Television,
Newcleus,
Wire,
Accadde A,
The Golliwogs,
Sällskapet,
Mantronix,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Man Eating Sloth,
Qualms,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lower 48,
Surgeon,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Rites of Spring,
Alice Coltrane,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Absolute Body Control,
Masters at Work,
Easy Going,
Flamin' Groovies,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Scrapy,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Vladislav Delay,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Chrome,
E-Dancer,
John Cale,
Q and Not U,
FM Einheit, FM Einheit, FM Einheit, FM Einheit.
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.