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 New Zealand and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 güiro 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 Fania All-Stars to the funk 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 The Black Dice. All the underground hits.
All Alphaville tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barclay James Harvest record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultra Naté record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Knickerbockers,
The Detroit Cobras,
Delon & Dalcan,
Minnie Riperton,
David McCallum,
Severed Heads,
Angry Samoans,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Saints,
Swell Maps,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Tubeway Army,
Hashim,
David Bowie,
Funky Four + One,
Babytalk,
La Düsseldorf,
Alphaville,
Blake Baxter,
Maleditus Sound,
Neil Young,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Groovy Waters,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Pere Ubu,
The Divine Comedy,
Tim Buckley,
The Cowsills,
Gabor Szabo,
Spandau Ballet,
Glenn Branca,
Big Daddy Kane,
Faraquet,
Ultravox,
the Germs,
Unrelated Segments,
Matthew Bourne,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Clear Light,
Aaron Thompson,
The Fortunes,
Juan Atkins,
Josef K,
John Foxx,
Colin Newman,
Roger Hodgson,
the Bar-Kays,
The Walker Brothers,
John Coltrane,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
MDC,
The Slits,
Janne Schatter,
Banda Bassotti,
The Alarm Clocks,
Camberwell Now,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Technova,
Absolute Body Control,
Wally Richardson,
Dual Sessions, Dual Sessions, Dual Sessions, Dual Sessions.
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.