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 Cyprus and from Beijing.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Saccharine Trust to the electroclash 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 Malaria!. All the underground hits.
All Bill Wells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Order record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeff Lynne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Tim Buckley,
Jandek,
The Shadows of Knight,
Little Man,
The Searchers,
Bill Wells,
Nirvana,
The Pretty Things,
Barry Ungar,
Blancmange,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Red Krayola,
Inner City,
Marine Girls,
Infiniti,
Country Teasers,
A Certain Ratio,
Fort Wilson Riot,
kango's stein massive,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Joyce Sims,
X-102,
Fifty Foot Hose,
London Community Gospel Choir,
X-101,
Kas Product,
Crash Course in Science,
Lalann,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ornette Coleman,
Quantec,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Five Americans,
Lakeside,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Monks,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Divine Comedy,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Freddie Wadling,
Moss Icon,
Blake Baxter,
Pagans,
Deakin,
Todd Terry,
Ohio Players,
Eddi Front,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Young Marble Giants,
Ronan,
Idris Muhammad,
Barbara Tucker,
Bobby Byrd,
The New Christs,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Mummies,
Urselle,
Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack.
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.