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 Thailand and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 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 Marine Girls to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Eurythmics. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Osbourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lee Hazlewood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
The Vogues,
Soul Sonic Force,
Pere Ubu,
Fad Gadget,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Cameo,
Ludus,
Chris & Cosey,
Alison Limerick,
Frankie Knuckles,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Buzzcocks,
Derrick Morgan,
Massinfluence,
Grauzone,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Fortunes,
Duran Duran,
the Sonics,
Saccharine Trust,
Delon & Dalcan,
Swell Maps,
Underground Resistance,
Excepter,
Black Flag,
Susan Cadogan,
The Gun Club,
Minny Pops,
The Fugs,
Don Cherry,
ABC,
T. Rex,
The Zeros,
Nik Kershaw,
Chris Corsano,
John Foxx,
Oblivians,
Scott Walker,
Peter and Kerry,
Eurythmics,
Tropical Tobacco,
Young Marble Giants,
China Crisis,
Lightning Bolt,
Depeche Mode,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
World's Most,
Connie Case,
Nation of Ulysses,
Byron Stingily,
Quando Quango,
the Bar-Kays,
Youth Brigade,
The Cramps,
Cluster,
Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio.
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.