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 Sierra Leone and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 mellotron 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 Gang of Four to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All Au Pairs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Skarface record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
La Düsseldorf,
Scan 7,
Connie Case,
Agent Orange,
In Retrospect,
Josef K,
The Sonics,
Ken Boothe,
Accadde A,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Radiopuhelimet,
Swell Maps,
Y Pants,
Minny Pops,
Eurythmics,
Mantronix,
K-Klass,
Black Sheep,
New York Dolls,
Crispy Ambulance,
Scott Walker,
Tres Demented,
the Normal,
Johnny Osbourne,
Mad Mike,
Traffic Nightmare,
John Coltrane,
Lou Reed,
Can,
The Dirtbombs,
The New Christs,
Laurel Aitken,
Yusef Lateef,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Rites of Spring,
Lakeside,
the Sonics,
Vladislav Delay,
Newcleus,
Tommy Roe,
Avey Tare,
F. McDonald,
Matthew Halsall,
Minor Threat,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Slits,
Boogie Down Productions,
Vainqueur,
X-101,
Echospace,
MDC,
Infiniti,
The Names,
The Raincoats,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Saints,
Mr. Review,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Dead C,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Black Pus,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.