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 Comoros and from Edmonton.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the linndrum 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 The American Breed to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Neil Young. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Judy Mowatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Art Ensemble Of Chicago record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mojo Men,
Kurtis Blow,
Zapp,
Donny Hathaway,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ultimate Spinach,
MDC,
Agent Orange,
Panda Bear,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Donald Byrd,
Skriet,
the Germs,
Shoche,
Moss Icon,
Hardrive,
Blake Baxter,
Echospace,
Mark Hollis,
Nas,
Sugar Minott,
Chris Corsano,
Au Pairs,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Moody Blues,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Mary Jane Girls,
Masters at Work,
The Mummies,
Cameo,
Dark Day,
Terry Callier,
Avey Tare,
Nick Fraelich,
June of 44,
a-ha,
Flash Fearless,
Talk Talk,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Symarip,
Nation of Ulysses,
Eric B and Rakim,
Aswad,
Laurel Aitken,
the Sonics,
Matthew Bourne,
DJ Sneak,
Thee Headcoats,
Scrapy,
Lungfish,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Black Moon,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Music Machine,
Sister Nancy,
The Dead C,
Wasted Youth,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sixth Finger,
The Sound,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.