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 South Sudan and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 sitar 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 Isaac Hayes to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. All the underground hits.
All Moebius tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boogie Down Productions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Supertramp,
Cecil Taylor,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sam Rivers,
John Lydon,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Real Kids,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Remains,
The Gap Band,
Nation of Ulysses,
Siglo XX,
Rites of Spring,
Sexual Harrassment,
Wally Richardson,
Spoonie Gee,
The Slackers,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Walker Brothers,
Don Cherry,
Pere Ubu,
Roger Hodgson,
These Immortal Souls,
Aural Exciters,
John Cale,
Drexciya,
48th St. Collective,
Icehouse,
Crash Course in Science,
Excepter,
Rapeman,
Ice-T,
Procol Harum,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Delon & Dalcan,
Erykah Badu,
Blake Baxter,
Surgeon,
Saccharine Trust,
Animal Collective,
Vladislav Delay,
Matthew Halsall,
The Kinks,
OOIOO,
Camberwell Now,
Thee Headcoats,
Black Pus,
Sarah Menescal,
Mad Mike,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
New York Dolls,
Gong,
The Star Department,
Metal Thangz,
Anthony Braxton,
The Gories,
Livin' Joy,
Scientists,
Gang Starr,
Matthew Bourne,
Zero Boys,
Franke,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.