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 Sweden and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All Freddie Wadling tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Silicon Teens,
Slick Rick,
Mo-Dettes,
Sexual Harrassment,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Aural Exciters,
Massinfluence,
Nico,
Warsaw,
Sun City Girls,
Scott Walker,
Ash Ra Tempel,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Leaves,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Pantytec,
Accadde A,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Arab on Radar,
Japan,
Howard Jones,
Wasted Youth,
The Fuzztones,
Newcleus,
Basic Channel,
Lungfish,
The Misunderstood,
Davy DMX,
Popol Vuh,
Dave Gahan,
Kerrie Biddell,
Severed Heads,
Hot Snakes,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Fall,
Matthew Halsall,
Malaria!,
48th St. Collective,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Organ,
Model 500,
Pere Ubu,
Al Stewart,
Banda Bassotti,
Kerri Chandler,
Lalann,
David Axelrod,
Television,
Lindisfarne,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Subhumans,
Babytalk,
David McCallum,
The Modern Lovers,
Boredoms,
Porter Ricks,
Underground Resistance,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.