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 Sierra Leone and from Lagos.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manila.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Ultravox to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All Infiniti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fugs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Eric Dolphy,
The Black Dice,
Malaria!,
Porter Ricks,
Gichy Dan,
AZ,
The Pretty Things,
The Fuzztones,
The Birthday Party,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ten City,
Young Marble Giants,
K-Klass,
Fear,
The Slits,
The Seeds,
The Buckinghams,
The Raincoats,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Wire,
Todd Rundgren,
The Blues Magoos,
Tres Demented,
David McCallum,
the Normal,
Lakeside,
The Young Rascals,
The Music Machine,
Morten Harket,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
FM Einheit,
Franke,
Heaven 17,
Flipper,
Fatback Band,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Pussy Galore,
DJ Sneak,
Yaz,
Dawn Penn,
Kayak,
Yazoo,
Al Stewart,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
In Retrospect,
Kerrie Biddell,
Con Funk Shun,
The Barracudas,
The Litter,
Ronan,
Roxette,
Hoover,
Bob Dylan,
Gang Starr,
Sister Nancy,
Anakelly,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bootsy Collins,
New York Dolls,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.