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 Uzbekistan and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Warren Ellis to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Star Department. All the underground hits.
All Prince Buster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Underground Resistance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boogie Down Productions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
Joyce Sims,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Associates,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Dawn Penn,
Crime,
Quadrant,
Scott Walker,
Grauzone,
Model 500,
The Dirtbombs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Agent Orange,
Boogie Down Productions,
Pere Ubu,
Todd Rundgren,
Porter Ricks,
June of 44,
The Selecter,
Derrick May,
Moss Icon,
The Sound,
Quantec,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Fuzztones,
Mary Jane Girls,
Desert Stars,
CMW,
Scratch Acid,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Siglo XX,
Drexciya,
Sexual Harrassment,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Ultra Naté,
Dave Gahan,
John Coltrane,
Mad Mike,
DNA,
Ludus,
Index,
Tom Boy,
AZ,
E-Dancer,
Aaron Thompson,
Rakim,
Kerri Chandler,
Agitation Free,
Brothers Johnson,
Country Teasers,
Cybotron,
Skaos,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Brick,
Pussy Galore,
the Fania All-Stars,
Little Man,
Arcadia,
LL Cool J, LL Cool J, LL Cool J, LL Cool J.
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.