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 Singapore and from Portland.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 guitar 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 Sexual Harrassment to the rap 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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers Ubiquity tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gong 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Swans,
James White and The Blacks,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Black Moon,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Motions,
Quadrant,
Mission of Burma,
Underground Resistance,
Make Up,
Thompson Twins,
The Dead C,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Stereo Dub,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Jesper Dahlback,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Crooked Eye,
Groovy Waters,
The Standells,
Gang Starr,
8 Eyed Spy,
Faraquet,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Skarface,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Chris & Cosey,
Hardrive,
Rufus Thomas,
The American Breed,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Harmonia,
FM Einheit,
New Order,
The Electric Prunes,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
DJ Sneak,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Jawbox,
Archie Shepp,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Sarah Menescal,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Drive Like Jehu,
Joy Division,
Pet Shop Boys,
David McCallum,
Minor Threat,
Crispy Ambulance,
X-101,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Marc Almond,
The Selecter,
Black Bananas,
Johnny Osbourne,
Public Image Ltd.,
Warsaw,
The Tremeloes,
Vladislav Delay,
Reuben Wilson,
Second Layer,
Delta 5, Delta 5, Delta 5, Delta 5.
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.