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 Mali and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Traffic Nightmare to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Girls At Our Best!. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rufus Thomas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Smoke,
Niagra,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
the Bar-Kays,
Fat Boys,
The United States of America,
Neil Young,
Sandy B,
Crooked Eye,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Fatback Band,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Country Teasers,
Kurtis Blow,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Young Marble Giants,
Deadbeat,
Vladislav Delay,
10cc,
Alison Limerick,
Sun City Girls,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Isaac Hayes,
Andrew Hill,
DJ Style,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Public Enemy,
Leonard Cohen,
the Sonics,
Man Eating Sloth,
Circle Jerks,
Trumans Water,
The Stooges,
Ohio Players,
Shoche,
Bush Tetras,
Clear Light,
The Golliwogs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Yazoo,
Kerrie Biddell,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Eric Copeland,
Harpers Bizarre,
Rotary Connection,
Connie Case,
Charles Mingus,
The Techniques,
Agitation Free,
These Immortal Souls,
The Fire Engines,
Colin Newman,
Tomorrow,
The Birthday Party,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Al Stewart,
Bobby Byrd,
The Motions,
Dead Boys,
Max Romeo,
Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees.
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.