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 Indonesia and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Spokane.
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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the 808 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 Marine Girls to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Severed Heads tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Althea and Donna 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
Erasure,
Mo-Dettes,
Man Parrish,
Cluster,
Radiohead,
Kayak,
Rekid,
The Human League,
the Bar-Kays,
Roy Ayers,
Frankie Knuckles,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Offenders,
Sonny Sharrock,
Danielle Patucci,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Minny Pops,
Simply Red,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The J.B.'s,
Dual Sessions,
Colin Newman,
David Bowie,
Anakelly,
Lakeside,
Lightning Bolt,
Dawn Penn,
Intrusion,
Slick Rick,
Arab on Radar,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Au Pairs,
The Beau Brummels,
The Remains,
Pulsallama,
Stockholm Monsters,
Maleditus Sound,
R.M.O.,
Bobby Womack,
Patti Smith,
Aswad,
Sight & Sound,
The Cramps,
Crash Course in Science,
The Move,
The Electric Prunes,
Joyce Sims,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Television Personalities,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Moss Icon,
Monks,
The Blackbyrds,
Robert Wyatt,
The Names,
B.T. Express,
Anthony Braxton,
Crooked Eye,
Dark Day,
OOIOO,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.