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 Ghana and from Columbus.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Black Dice. All the underground hits.
All ABBA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Sneak 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 an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
DJ Style,
The Motions,
Henry Cow,
Amon Düül,
Funkadelic,
the Association,
Youth Brigade,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Q and Not U,
Drexciya,
Gang Gang Dance,
James White and The Blacks,
Trumans Water,
KRS-One,
Television,
Man Eating Sloth,
Wings,
Deadbeat,
Blake Baxter,
Erasure,
The Misunderstood,
Neu!,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lakeside,
Technova,
Reagan Youth,
Moss Icon,
The Angels of Light,
Silicon Teens,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Colin Newman,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Fluxion,
Suicide,
Little Man,
OOIOO,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Severed Heads,
The Barracudas,
ABC,
Arcadia,
Fad Gadget,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Faraquet,
The J.B.'s,
Basic Channel,
X-102,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sex Pistols,
The Sonics,
Dennis Brown,
Organ,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sister Nancy,
Section 25,
Hot Snakes,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Grass Roots,
JFA,
The Busters, The Busters, The Busters, The Busters.
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.