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 Ivory Coast and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Dave Gahan to the grime 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 Bobby Womack. All the underground hits.
All Minny Pops tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Move 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gary Puckett & The Union Gap record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smiths,
Country Teasers,
La Düsseldorf,
Simply Red,
The Toasters,
Bill Wells,
Bronski Beat,
Nas,
The Monks,
New Age Steppers,
DNA,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Franke,
Make Up,
The Vogues,
Brick,
Circle Jerks,
cv313,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Joey Negro,
The Moody Blues,
UT,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Slits,
Youth Brigade,
Interpol,
Depeche Mode,
The Star Department,
Cecil Taylor,
Marc Almond,
Rotary Connection,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Johnny Osbourne,
10cc,
Organ,
Urselle,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Stetsasonic,
Surgeon,
The Tremeloes,
Curtis Mayfield,
Man Parrish,
The Real Kids,
The Knickerbockers,
Masters at Work,
Lalann,
Glenn Branca,
The Skatalites,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Nico,
Rites of Spring,
Patti Smith,
the Soft Cell,
Dead Boys,
Donny Hathaway,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pole,
Von Mondo,
Fad Gadget,
The Standells, The Standells, The Standells, The Standells.
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.