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 Guyana and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Subhumans to the dance 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 The Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All Aural Exciters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suburban Knight record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronan,
Steve Hackett,
Arab on Radar,
FM Einheit,
Banda Bassotti,
Bang On A Can,
The Raincoats,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Dead C,
Duran Duran,
Ice-T,
Monks,
The Fortunes,
The Last Poets,
a-ha,
Oblivians,
Quantec,
Bizarre Inc.,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Smoke,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Fatback Band,
Funky Four + One,
The Slits,
Anakelly,
Country Teasers,
Barclay James Harvest,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Eric Dolphy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Walker Brothers,
Gang Green,
The Red Krayola,
Cal Tjader,
Shoche,
Absolute Body Control,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sister Nancy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Lalann,
The Moleskins,
The Modern Lovers,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Letta Mbulu,
Lyres,
The Golliwogs,
The Busters,
Qualms,
Patti Smith,
Section 25,
The Gories,
Blake Baxter,
Mad Mike,
Arthur Verocai,
Yazoo,
The Human League,
James White and The Blacks,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Music Machine,
Youth Brigade,
Jeff Mills,
Swell Maps,
Stiv Bators,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.