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 Georgia and from Edmonton.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Vogues. All the underground hits.
All Franke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Urselle record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shoche,
Rites of Spring,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
the Association,
Al Stewart,
Kerri Chandler,
Crooked Eye,
Minor Threat,
Pylon,
Q65,
The Golliwogs,
The Beau Brummels,
Glenn Branca,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Misunderstood,
Clear Light,
Lindisfarne,
The Leaves,
Ornette Coleman,
Heaven 17,
Man Parrish,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Qualms,
David Axelrod,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jacques Brel,
T.S.O.L.,
Sonny Sharrock,
Procol Harum,
Pantytec,
The Dirtbombs,
Ultravox,
EPMD,
Fear,
The Pop Group,
The Associates,
Gong,
Flamin' Groovies,
Pole,
The Gap Band,
Roy Ayers,
The Count Five,
Accadde A,
Severed Heads,
Alice Coltrane,
Drexciya,
Bill Near,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Vogues,
Ronan,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
R.M.O.,
Mad Mike,
Unwound,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Howard Jones,
Skaos,
Janne Schatter,
the Swans,
Q and Not U,
Donny Hathaway,
Radio Birdman,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Kas Product, Kas Product, Kas Product, Kas Product.
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.