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 Palau and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Inner City. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mary Jane Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joyce Sims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Byron Stingily,
Lightning Bolt,
Rites of Spring,
kango's stein massive,
Al Stewart,
Skarface,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Mr. Review,
Theoretical Girls,
The Pop Group,
Avey Tare,
Wolf Eyes,
Moebius,
F. McDonald,
The Zeros,
Dennis Brown,
Drive Like Jehu,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Nas,
a-ha,
Slick Rick,
Model 500,
The Music Machine,
A Certain Ratio,
The Black Dice,
Reuben Wilson,
Con Funk Shun,
Kayak,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bobby Byrd,
MC5,
Bill Wells,
Agent Orange,
The Slackers,
Neu!,
Grey Daturas,
The Real Kids,
The Sonics,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Vainqueur,
Bootsy Collins,
Roxy Music,
Pagans,
Arab on Radar,
Reagan Youth,
Tubeway Army,
Wire,
Electric Prunes,
Grauzone,
Dawn Penn,
Index,
Mo-Dettes,
Gregory Isaacs,
Big Daddy Kane,
Parry Music,
Skaos,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Fuzztones,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Magma,
Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne.
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.