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 Marshall Islands and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 snare 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 L. Decosne to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Technova. All the underground hits.
All The Last Poets tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Girls At Our Best! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harpers Bizarre,
Swans,
Man Parrish,
Darondo,
U.S. Maple,
X-Ray Spex,
Crash Course in Science,
World's Most,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Camouflage,
Das Ding,
Maurizio,
The Motions,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Jerry's Kids,
The Barracudas,
Simply Red,
The Alarm Clocks,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rod Modell,
The Music Machine,
Drive Like Jehu,
Theoretical Girls,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Saints,
The Seeds,
Stereo Dub,
Public Image Ltd.,
Warsaw,
Derrick May,
the Normal,
Faust,
The Dirtbombs,
Buzzcocks,
The Buckinghams,
The Cure,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Gang of Four,
The Young Rascals,
Peter & Gordon,
The Happenings,
Matthew Halsall,
Hoover,
Lalann,
Johnny Clarke,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Don Cherry,
Peter and Kerry,
Tomorrow,
AZ,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Doors,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Depeche Mode,
Girls At Our Best!,
MDC,
Judy Mowatt,
Josef K,
Clear Light,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Prince Buster,
The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels.
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.