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 Somalia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Country Teasers to the punk 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 Ultravox. All the underground hits.
All Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Outsiders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
Spoonie Gee,
The Saints,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Quadrant,
The Knickerbockers,
Cheater Slicks,
The Motions,
The Offenders,
Godley & Creme,
Bizarre Inc.,
Al Stewart,
Swell Maps,
Main Source,
Big Daddy Kane,
Throbbing Gristle,
Saccharine Trust,
Marcia Griffiths,
Danielle Patucci,
Radiohead,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Real Kids,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Eve St. Jones,
Crooked Eye,
Tomorrow,
Henry Cow,
The Dead C,
Vladislav Delay,
Pantaleimon,
Lower 48,
10cc,
The Residents,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Young Marble Giants,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lalann,
E-Dancer,
Ten City,
Trumans Water,
The Star Department,
Metal Thangz,
Pet Shop Boys,
Maurizio,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Electric Prunes,
Gichy Dan,
L. Decosne,
Nils Olav,
Scrapy,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Erasure,
Fear,
Juan Atkins,
Accadde A,
Freddie Wadling,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pere Ubu,
The Cowsills,
Yellowson,
K-Klass,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.