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 Cameroon and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 rhodes 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 New York Dolls to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Agent Orange. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Justin Hinds & The Dominoes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thompson Twins,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rod Modell,
Kevin Saunderson,
Sällskapet,
The Neon Judgement,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lungfish,
The Modern Lovers,
Duran Duran,
Man Parrish,
Wire,
The Stooges,
June of 44,
X-102,
Little Man,
The Pop Group,
Roy Ayers,
Howard Jones,
Echospace,
Iggy Pop,
The Selecter,
Drive Like Jehu,
Country Joe & The Fish,
the Association,
Eddi Front,
Jawbox,
Ohio Players,
Crash Course in Science,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Remains,
Lyres,
X-Ray Spex,
John Coltrane,
The Martian,
Liliput,
Robert Hood,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Trumans Water,
Lightning Bolt,
Malaria!,
Accadde A,
DNA,
Model 500,
Spandau Ballet,
Zapp,
10cc,
Scratch Acid,
Deepchord,
The Knickerbockers,
Amon Düül II,
Brick,
The United States of America,
Thee Headcoats,
Banda Bassotti,
Technova,
Rotary Connection,
The Red Krayola,
Rapeman,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
David Axelrod,
Matthew Bourne,
The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots.
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.