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 Tanzania and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Absolute Body Control to the disco 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 Hot Snakes. All the underground hits.
All Make Up tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rekid 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord 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 Barracudas,
Cameo,
Silicon Teens,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jerry's Kids,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Eddi Front,
Ultravox,
Dark Day,
Crispy Ambulance,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Real Kids,
Eric Dolphy,
Visage,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Aloha Tigers,
Andrew Hill,
Pussy Galore,
Wolf Eyes,
The Litter,
Albert Ayler,
The Monks,
Dave Gahan,
The Doors,
Eurythmics,
KRS-One,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Fad Gadget,
Eric Copeland,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Peter and Kerry,
Magazine,
The Skatalites,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Loose Ends,
New Age Steppers,
Boredoms,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Blues Magoos,
The Dirtbombs,
Main Source,
Alice Coltrane,
U.S. Maple,
Sun City Girls,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Mary Jane Girls,
Piero Umiliani,
Alphaville,
Morten Harket,
Mission of Burma,
Marine Girls,
John Lydon,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Wire,
Marc Almond,
the Normal,
Amon Düül,
Spoonie Gee,
Motorama,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers.
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.