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 Grenada and from Manchester.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Sam Rivers to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Byron Stingily. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Lynne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Inner City record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a LL Cool J record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
Alphaville,
The Velvet Underground,
Deadbeat,
The Fugs,
Rod Modell,
Nils Olav,
Lyres,
Amazonics,
Arthur Verocai,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
John Lydon,
Aaron Thompson,
Maleditus Sound,
The Beau Brummels,
Cymande,
Banda Bassotti,
Youth Brigade,
ABC,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ken Boothe,
In Retrospect,
The Evens,
Chrome,
Anakelly,
Skarface,
Deepchord,
Letta Mbulu,
Public Enemy,
The Searchers,
Dave Gahan,
Nico,
Wire,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Cameo,
The Sound,
The Pop Group,
The Names,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
June of 44,
Lindisfarne,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
the Swans,
DNA,
John Foxx,
Connie Case,
Marshall Jefferson,
Judy Mowatt,
Moss Icon,
Qualms,
Thompson Twins,
Black Pus,
Bootsy Collins,
The Tremeloes,
Index,
Talk Talk,
Panda Bear,
Al Stewart,
H. Thieme,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
AZ,
Albert Ayler,
Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars.
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.