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 Senegal and from Lagos.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 linndrum 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 Delon & Dalcan to the techno 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 Ludus. All the underground hits.
All Thee Headcoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Barracudas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Organ,
Stereo Dub,
The Dirtbombs,
The Blackbyrds,
Tropical Tobacco,
Alphaville,
The Leaves,
Infiniti,
Black Bananas,
The Red Krayola,
Lalann,
Wire,
The Smiths,
The Human League,
Piero Umiliani,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Scrapy,
F. McDonald,
David McCallum,
Marc Almond,
Kerrie Biddell,
A Certain Ratio,
Oblivians,
Warsaw,
Roger Hodgson,
Bluetip,
Deakin,
Yusef Lateef,
Reagan Youth,
Crime,
The Wake,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Jandek,
Hoover,
Circle Jerks,
La Düsseldorf,
Rites of Spring,
The Cowsills,
Boredoms,
The Index,
Spoonie Gee,
Mars,
Lebanon Hanover,
the Germs,
Prince Buster,
Faraquet,
Sex Pistols,
Eden Ahbez,
Jerry's Kids,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Agent Orange,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Rekid,
The Monochrome Set,
The Knickerbockers,
Pylon,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Supertramp,
Lindisfarne,
Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms.
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.