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 Thailand and from Copenhagen.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the marimba 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 The Residents to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Second Layer. All the underground hits.
All Sunsets and Hearts tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Flag record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camberwell Now,
The Cowsills,
Infiniti,
Girls At Our Best!,
Glambeats Corp.,
Cluster,
Can,
Connie Case,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Das Ding,
Derrick May,
Section 25,
The Buckinghams,
Clear Light,
Jawbox,
Intrusion,
Skaos,
Johnny Clarke,
Glenn Branca,
The Fugs,
The Mojo Men,
Tom Boy,
The Raincoats,
Oneida,
The Blues Magoos,
The Modern Lovers,
Big Daddy Kane,
Michelle Simonal,
Piero Umiliani,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Zeros,
Drive Like Jehu,
Soft Machine,
Marvin Gaye,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Jeru the Damaja,
Joey Negro,
Pet Shop Boys,
Outsiders,
Los Fastidios,
Lou Christie,
New Age Steppers,
Dark Day,
Fela Kuti,
Tommy Roe,
In Retrospect,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
ABBA,
The Blackbyrds,
Sixth Finger,
The United States of America,
Whodini,
Mo-Dettes,
Lungfish,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Kaleidoscope,
Dual Sessions,
Radiohead,
CMW,
Alison Limerick,
Soul II Soul,
Jeff Lynne,
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.