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 the UAE and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Shuggie Otis to the dance 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 10cc. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quadrant 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Babytalk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fall,
Masters at Work,
The Mojo Men,
June of 44,
Colin Newman,
Maurizio,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Rufus Thomas,
Robert Hood,
Rapeman,
Symarip,
Al Stewart,
The Alarm Clocks,
Mad Mike,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Susan Cadogan,
E-Dancer,
Bronski Beat,
Bob Dylan,
Panda Bear,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Black Moon,
Piero Umiliani,
The Victims,
Niagra,
The Slits,
The Star Department,
Ludus,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Lungfish,
Babytalk,
Los Fastidios,
Freddie Wadling,
The Vogues,
Avey Tare,
Deakin,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rakim,
Television Personalities,
Bluetip,
The Buckinghams,
Swell Maps,
Flamin' Groovies,
Royal Trux,
The Divine Comedy,
Yaz,
Agent Orange,
Sister Nancy,
Guru Guru,
L. Decosne,
Iggy Pop,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Minutemen,
Kayak,
Yusef Lateef,
The Leaves,
Jimmy McGriff,
D'Angelo,
Eli Mardock,
Roxette,
David Bowie,
Laurel Aitken,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Alphaville, Alphaville, Alphaville, Alphaville.
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.