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 Algeria and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 chamberlin 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the electroclash 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 The Dead C. All the underground hits.
All Interpol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dawn Penn 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?
Robert Wyatt,
the Swans,
Pylon,
Roxy Music,
Grey Daturas,
Crime,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Slackers,
Reagan Youth,
Barclay James Harvest,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Real Kids,
the Human League,
Ultra Naté,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Livin' Joy,
Pulsallama,
Gong,
Public Image Ltd.,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Stiv Bators,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Arcadia,
The Busters,
Mantronix,
Pet Shop Boys,
James White and The Blacks,
The Birthday Party,
Silicon Teens,
Wally Richardson,
The Blues Magoos,
Piero Umiliani,
Cheater Slicks,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
48th St. Collective,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Drexciya,
Goldenarms,
Unwound,
The Gap Band,
Hasil Adkins,
Au Pairs,
the Soft Cell,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Throbbing Gristle,
Minnie Riperton,
The Leaves,
Althea and Donna,
Marmalade,
Henry Cow,
The Cowsills,
The Smiths,
The Electric Prunes,
Con Funk Shun,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Associates,
Graham Central Station,
Ludus,
Intrusion,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.