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 Equatorial Guinea and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 organ 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 Stooges to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Sunsets and Hearts tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick Morgan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scientists,
The Cowsills,
Joe Smooth,
Bootsy Collins,
Lee Hazlewood,
Camouflage,
Kurtis Blow,
Danielle Patucci,
John Cale,
Al Stewart,
The New Christs,
Jawbox,
Pylon,
Mars,
Thee Headcoats,
Sugar Minott,
Soft Cell,
8 Eyed Spy,
Stereo Dub,
Echospace,
Crash Course in Science,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lightning Bolt,
These Immortal Souls,
Yellowson,
Reuben Wilson,
Marine Girls,
Excepter,
the Fania All-Stars,
Silicon Teens,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Faust,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Blossom Toes,
Sarah Menescal,
Monks,
The Star Department,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Misunderstood,
Roger Hodgson,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Moody Blues,
The Motions,
The Music Machine,
Von Mondo,
Crooked Eye,
Porter Ricks,
Ossler,
Camberwell Now,
Unrelated Segments,
Anakelly,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Toasters,
Laurel Aitken,
Marc Almond,
Barbara Tucker,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Spandau Ballet,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Grass Roots,
Flamin' Groovies,
Wasted Youth,
James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks.
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.