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 Afghanistan and from Glasgow.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the organ 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark 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 X-101. All the underground hits.
All Pantytec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deadbeat 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 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultramagnetic MC's record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Clear Light,
The Doors,
Black Pus,
Iggy Pop,
Brand Nubian,
Arthur Verocai,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Barrington Levy,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Crash Course in Science,
Inner City,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lakeside,
Mandrill,
The Invisible,
Index,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Urselle,
Nik Kershaw,
Anakelly,
Matthew Halsall,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bobby Womack,
La Düsseldorf,
Yellowson,
Sparks,
Cheater Slicks,
John Cale,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Index,
Y Pants,
The Shadows of Knight,
Goldenarms,
The Zeros,
Fluxion,
Magma,
Suburban Knight,
Model 500,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Five Americans,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Absolute Body Control,
Guru Guru,
Barclay James Harvest,
New Age Steppers,
John Holt,
Harpers Bizarre,
Shuggie Otis,
Rapeman,
Outsiders,
Graham Central Station,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Roxy Music,
Harry Pussy,
Can,
The Angels of Light,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Leaves,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Pierre Henry,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Blackbyrds,
Skarface, Skarface, Skarface, Skarface.
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.