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 Romania and from Hong Kong.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 the Soft Cell to the jazz 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 Stiv Bators. All the underground hits.
All Nation of Ulysses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Duran Duran 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barry Ungar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alphaville,
Crispy Ambulance,
Motorama,
Godley & Creme,
Smog,
Bobby Byrd,
The Raincoats,
The Dirtbombs,
Kurtis Blow,
Marine Girls,
Q65,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Alarm Clocks,
Juan Atkins,
Sex Pistols,
Avey Tare,
the Slits,
Jeru the Damaja,
Camberwell Now,
The Dead C,
The Gladiators,
Tommy Roe,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Gang Gang Dance,
Alice Coltrane,
Procol Harum,
Shoche,
The Kinks,
The Barracudas,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Mojo Men,
The Cramps,
AZ,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Zapp,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Real Kids,
Bill Near,
Whodini,
Barbara Tucker,
The Music Machine,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Scion,
Popol Vuh,
John Holt,
Quando Quango,
James White and The Blacks,
Faraquet,
Toni Rubio,
ABC,
T.S.O.L.,
Bobby Sherman,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Qualms,
Jandek,
Jacob Miller,
Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange.
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.