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 Guatemala and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Glasgow.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Pharoah Sanders to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Roxette. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Offenders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blossom Toes,
Negative Approach,
Black Sheep,
The Monks,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Hot Snakes,
Idris Muhammad,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Qualms,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Amazonics,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Clear Light,
Unrelated Segments,
Heaven 17,
Donny Hathaway,
Robert Görl,
Rufus Thomas,
Cameo,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Terrestrial Tones,
Fela Kuti,
Easy Going,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bush Tetras,
The Mojo Men,
Althea and Donna,
Inner City,
Johnny Osbourne,
Susan Cadogan,
Peter and Kerry,
New Age Steppers,
The Birthday Party,
The Flesh Eaters,
Black Bananas,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Chris Corsano,
Gang Green,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Moby Grape,
A Certain Ratio,
Henry Cow,
Black Flag,
Yusef Lateef,
Prince Buster,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Funkadelic,
Kool Moe Dee,
DNA,
The Barracudas,
Jawbox,
James White and The Blacks,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Gabor Szabo,
Lungfish,
Minny Pops,
Quantec,
the Human League,
The Slackers,
Bauhaus,
Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside.
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.