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 the UAE and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 guitar 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 Los Fastidios to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Man Parrish. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every These Immortal Souls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tim Buckley record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
T. Rex,
Nils Olav,
Brick,
The Fire Engines,
Black Flag,
Goldenarms,
Marcia Griffiths,
8 Eyed Spy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Shadows of Knight,
X-101,
Angry Samoans,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Tom Boy,
Brothers Johnson,
Matthew Halsall,
ABC,
Visage,
Ultra Naté,
Can,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Chris & Cosey,
Bad Manners,
The Angels of Light,
the Soft Cell,
Camberwell Now,
Bobby Sherman,
Niagra,
The Trojans,
Jacques Brel,
Con Funk Shun,
U.S. Maple,
Agent Orange,
Pere Ubu,
Lee Hazlewood,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Sun Ra,
Wally Richardson,
One Last Wish,
Mr. Review,
Pylon,
The Standells,
Flamin' Groovies,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Grass Roots,
Das Ding,
Moby Grape,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Eurythmics,
Bob Dylan,
X-Ray Spex,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sugar Minott,
Roxy Music,
Nick Fraelich,
Yellowson,
Maleditus Sound,
Lindisfarne,
Fluxion,
Laurel Aitken,
The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy.
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.