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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Erasure to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Tremeloes. All the underground hits.
All The Remains tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barry Ungar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tom Boy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Walker Brothers,
June Days,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Hot Snakes,
H. Thieme,
X-Ray Spex,
Stockholm Monsters,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Eric Copeland,
The Moody Blues,
KRS-One,
Minutemen,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pussy Galore,
Cameo,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Grauzone,
Khruangbin,
Sandy B,
Simply Red,
Young Marble Giants,
Dennis Brown,
Terry Callier,
Rekid,
Fad Gadget,
The Standells,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Techniques,
Juan Atkins,
Au Pairs,
Patti Smith,
OOIOO,
Shuggie Otis,
Bobby Womack,
Wolf Eyes,
The Human League,
Scientists,
Camberwell Now,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Blackbyrds,
Eurythmics,
Sexual Harrassment,
Clear Light,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bill Near,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Music Machine,
Echospace,
The Buckinghams,
the Association,
Sonny Sharrock,
the Human League,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Public Image Ltd.,
Freddie Wadling,
Man Eating Sloth,
Brick,
Blossom Toes,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Drive Like Jehu,
Swans,
Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective.
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.