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 Ireland and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Edmonton.
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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Radio Birdman to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Pole tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lower 48 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cheater Slicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
Tommy Roe,
Gregory Isaacs,
Lou Christie,
Cymande,
June of 44,
Tubeway Army,
The Invisible,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Interpol,
Yellowson,
Swans,
Pet Shop Boys,
Soulsonic Force,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
New York Dolls,
Spandau Ballet,
Banda Bassotti,
Tim Buckley,
The American Breed,
Saccharine Trust,
Boredoms,
Man Parrish,
Brass Construction,
Metal Thangz,
Bronski Beat,
Wolf Eyes,
Grey Daturas,
Peter & Gordon,
Supertramp,
Jimmy McGriff,
Con Funk Shun,
Bad Manners,
Isaac Hayes,
Dawn Penn,
Brick,
Matthew Bourne,
Max Romeo,
Eurythmics,
Technova,
Ituana,
The Doors,
The Sound,
Wings,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bush Tetras,
The Residents,
Deepchord,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Stooges,
Gang of Four,
Camouflage,
The Smiths,
Drexciya,
Sparks,
Bill Wells,
The Fuzztones,
Robert Wyatt,
Zapp,
Hasil Adkins,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.