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 Switzerland and from Manchester.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Manila.
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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Glambeats Corp. to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Yellowson. All the underground hits.
All Grey Daturas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sugar Minott 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
K-Klass,
The J.B.'s,
Guru Guru,
Peter and Kerry,
Scan 7,
MDC,
Skarface,
Joe Finger,
Warsaw,
Popol Vuh,
The Blackbyrds,
The Angels of Light,
The Cure,
Juan Atkins,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ultravox,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Techniques,
Angry Samoans,
Agent Orange,
Grauzone,
Inner City,
Eric Copeland,
Model 500,
Glenn Branca,
Youth Brigade,
Camberwell Now,
Goldenarms,
Brick,
The Dave Clark Five,
Judy Mowatt,
Circle Jerks,
Wings,
Eve St. Jones,
Mantronix,
Dorothy Ashby,
Suicide,
Bang On A Can,
Slave,
Scientists,
The Cowsills,
Bauhaus,
cv313,
Sun Ra,
Jeru the Damaja,
Byron Stingily,
Bill Near,
The Index,
Amon Düül II,
Ohio Players,
Monks,
Todd Terry,
Donny Hathaway,
The Young Rascals,
The Misunderstood,
Flamin' Groovies,
T. Rex,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Gang Starr,
Moby Grape,
Michelle Simonal,
Ornette Coleman,
Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart.
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.