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 Mozambique and from Bremen.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Tehran.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 The Fire Engines to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 New Age Steppers. All the underground hits.
All David McCallum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Association 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Pretty Things,
Connie Case,
Supertramp,
Joey Negro,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Groovy Waters,
Prince Buster,
Brothers Johnson,
Ultravox,
Shoche,
Erasure,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Blake Baxter,
Moss Icon,
Interpol,
Yaz,
Youth Brigade,
Throbbing Gristle,
In Retrospect,
Lalo Schifrin,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Blackbyrds,
Wally Richardson,
Niagra,
Arthur Verocai,
Model 500,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Man Parrish,
Man Eating Sloth,
Kerri Chandler,
Shuggie Otis,
Slick Rick,
The Offenders,
La Düsseldorf,
Grandmaster Flash,
Ossler,
Tomorrow,
The Fire Engines,
Ken Boothe,
Dave Gahan,
Susan Cadogan,
Minnie Riperton,
Jawbox,
Brand Nubian,
Pussy Galore,
ABBA,
The Toasters,
Boogie Down Productions,
Chrome,
The Barracudas,
the Germs,
Marshall Jefferson,
Popol Vuh,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gang Starr,
Reuben Wilson,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Modern Lovers,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Young Marble Giants,
Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance.
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.