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 Djibouti and from Accra.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the grunge 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 Harpers Bizarre. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yusef Lateef record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a China Crisis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swell Maps,
The Index,
AZ,
Yellowson,
Joe Smooth,
Pylon,
The Detroit Cobras,
Interpol,
Television Personalities,
Kayak,
Oblivians,
The Mummies,
Johnny Osbourne,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Scott Walker,
Ten City,
KRS-One,
Cymande,
Agent Orange,
Moby Grape,
Gang Green,
Banda Bassotti,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Kerrie Biddell,
D'Angelo,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Susan Cadogan,
a-ha,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Music Machine,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Los Fastidios,
The Beau Brummels,
Blancmange,
James White and The Blacks,
Slick Rick,
Kurtis Blow,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Roger Hodgson,
Mo-Dettes,
Whodini,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sparks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
the Germs,
Television,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Masters at Work,
Tears for Fears,
Hasil Adkins,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Andrew Hill,
Todd Terry,
Moebius,
Severed Heads,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Negative Approach,
Spandau Ballet,
Eli Mardock,
Isaac Hayes,
Bob Dylan,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub.
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.