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 Burundi and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Tehran.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Bob Dylan to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Frankie Knuckles. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Colin Newman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Flag,
Graham Central Station,
The Black Dice,
Todd Terry,
Visage,
Rites of Spring,
Nils Olav,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Peter and Kerry,
The Gun Club,
Pet Shop Boys,
Slave,
Rapeman,
New York Dolls,
Patti Smith,
Nas,
Monks,
Kas Product,
Black Pus,
The Fugs,
Crispian St. Peters,
Grey Daturas,
Kerri Chandler,
Pere Ubu,
The Motions,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Pulsallama,
Theoretical Girls,
Chris Corsano,
Judy Mowatt,
Lakeside,
Wolf Eyes,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Pantaleimon,
Charles Mingus,
Angry Samoans,
Eve St. Jones,
Fela Kuti,
Stetsasonic,
Jacques Brel,
Cheater Slicks,
The Neon Judgement,
The Gories,
Mr. Review,
Flash Fearless,
Panda Bear,
Index,
The Fortunes,
DJ Sneak,
Isaac Hayes,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bauhaus,
Big Daddy Kane,
10cc,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Simply Red,
June of 44,
Ten City,
Skarface,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Buzzcocks,
The American Breed,
Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs.
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.