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 Namibia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 sitar 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 Erasure to the grunge 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 The Martian. All the underground hits.
All Spandau Ballet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Soft Cell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stereo Dub,
Au Pairs,
Cecil Taylor,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sandy B,
The Gladiators,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Names,
B.T. Express,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bobby Womack,
Guru Guru,
Ten City,
Agitation Free,
The Selecter,
In Retrospect,
Subhumans,
Graham Central Station,
Delta 5,
the Swans,
Bobby Byrd,
Little Man,
10cc,
R.M.O.,
The Doors,
Pharoah Sanders,
Nick Fraelich,
June of 44,
Radio Birdman,
Lyres,
Buzzcocks,
Warsaw,
The Kinks,
PIL,
Mark Hollis,
Shoche,
Roxette,
Babytalk,
Kas Product,
Desert Stars,
The Cure,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Skatalites,
These Immortal Souls,
Malaria!,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Joe Smooth,
Supertramp,
The Monks,
Brothers Johnson,
Pere Ubu,
Cybotron,
Urselle,
48th St. Collective,
The Gories,
EPMD,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Heaven 17,
Brass Construction,
Swell Maps,
The Associates, The Associates, The Associates, The Associates.
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.