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 Antigua and from Tehran.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Angels of Light to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Ponytail. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Curtis Mayfield record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Wyatt,
The Alarm Clocks,
Donald Byrd,
Massinfluence,
Ituana,
Buzzcocks,
Bizarre Inc.,
the Association,
Gregory Isaacs,
Kurtis Blow,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Half Japanese,
The Cramps,
The Dirtbombs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
T. Rex,
Black Moon,
Magazine,
The Index,
June Days,
Television Personalities,
Black Bananas,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Brick,
Motorama,
These Immortal Souls,
Jandek,
Ronnie Foster,
Erasure,
Spandau Ballet,
Reuben Wilson,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Hardrive,
Clear Light,
Country Teasers,
Bobby Sherman,
Jimmy McGriff,
Joe Finger,
Trumans Water,
Swell Maps,
Jeff Mills,
Goldenarms,
Johnny Osbourne,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Average White Band,
Brand Nubian,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Blues Magoos,
Kool Moe Dee,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
the Bar-Kays,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Barclay James Harvest,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pussy Galore,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Vogues,
Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus.
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.