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 Luxembourg and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Rites of Spring to the dance 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 Sun Ra. All the underground hits.
All Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultravox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amazonics,
Bluetip,
Kerri Chandler,
Andrew Hill,
Reuben Wilson,
Fela Kuti,
PIL,
Gang of Four,
Camouflage,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gastr Del Sol,
Soft Cell,
Rapeman,
Mr. Review,
Ohio Players,
Jawbox,
Harmonia,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Nik Kershaw,
Banda Bassotti,
Marine Girls,
Ituana,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pharoah Sanders,
Scan 7,
Bauhaus,
The Associates,
Aural Exciters,
Jacques Brel,
Anakelly,
Peter & Gordon,
Second Layer,
Letta Mbulu,
The Sound,
Pere Ubu,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bad Manners,
The Knickerbockers,
The Mojo Men,
Delon & Dalcan,
Boz Scaggs,
E-Dancer,
Derrick Morgan,
a-ha,
These Immortal Souls,
Hoover,
Little Man,
Ten City,
CMW,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Severed Heads,
The Litter,
Lee Hazlewood,
kango's stein massive,
Michelle Simonal,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Searchers,
Lindisfarne,
Glambeats Corp.,
Los Fastidios,
A Certain Ratio,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.