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 Cambodia and from Glasgow.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Detroit Cobras to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Todd Terry. All the underground hits.
All Faraquet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Piero Umiliani 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Sun City Girls,
Johnny Osbourne,
Crime,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mission of Burma,
Soul Sonic Force,
Matthew Halsall,
Sugar Minott,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Anakelly,
Jacob Miller,
Wasted Youth,
Ronan,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Fuzztones,
Saccharine Trust,
Anthony Braxton,
Sister Nancy,
Dawn Penn,
Hashim,
Rufus Thomas,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Eric B and Rakim,
Quantec,
Funkadelic,
DJ Sneak,
Outsiders,
Suburban Knight,
Buzzcocks,
Fad Gadget,
Vladislav Delay,
Gang Gang Dance,
L. Decosne,
Country Joe & The Fish,
PIL,
Oneida,
Pantaleimon,
Mr. Review,
Amazonics,
Arthur Verocai,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Roy Ayers,
Depeche Mode,
Urselle,
Derrick May,
Goldenarms,
Newcleus,
Scratch Acid,
AZ,
Man Parrish,
Delta 5,
Tears for Fears,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ituana,
The Happenings,
Dave Gahan,
Warren Ellis,
Wire,
Groovy Waters,
The Busters,
The Slackers,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.