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 Tunisia and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 harpsichord 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 Bobby Byrd to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All Soft Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Isaac Hayes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
London Community Gospel Choir,
Arthur Verocai,
Little Man,
Moebius,
Nils Olav,
Sun City Girls,
Ken Boothe,
The Slackers,
Cymande,
Oblivians,
Pagans,
Archie Shepp,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Arcadia,
Average White Band,
Suburban Knight,
Symarip,
Skaos,
New Age Steppers,
Siglo XX,
John Holt,
Crispian St. Peters,
Mary Jane Girls,
Flamin' Groovies,
Nik Kershaw,
Adolescents,
Duran Duran,
Soulsonic Force,
Camberwell Now,
Aloha Tigers,
The Modern Lovers,
Sister Nancy,
Ultra Naté,
The Star Department,
a-ha,
Ronan,
June of 44,
The Fire Engines,
The Smiths,
Smog,
CMW,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Dirtbombs,
Max Romeo,
Erykah Badu,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Cluster,
One Last Wish,
Kerri Chandler,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Steve Hackett,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Janne Schatter,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Motorama,
Piero Umiliani,
Young Marble Giants,
Television,
X-Ray Spex,
Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids.
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.