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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Spokane.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Holger Czukay 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 ABC to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Don Cherry. All the underground hits.
All the Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Starr record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Depeche Mode record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
Barrington Levy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Angry Samoans,
Sam Rivers,
Eurythmics,
Don Cherry,
Adolescents,
Index,
The Evens,
Bauhaus,
Saccharine Trust,
Au Pairs,
Ultra Naté,
Matthew Bourne,
These Immortal Souls,
Sun Ra,
The Trojans,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Pylon,
the Soft Cell,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ornette Coleman,
New Age Steppers,
Radiopuhelimet,
Little Man,
Electric Prunes,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Red Krayola,
Funkadelic,
Barclay James Harvest,
Magma,
Leonard Cohen,
Infiniti,
Japan,
Curtis Mayfield,
Jimmy McGriff,
Rotary Connection,
Joe Finger,
Talk Talk,
Glenn Branca,
Basic Channel,
Agent Orange,
Mary Jane Girls,
Rites of Spring,
Alton Ellis,
Supertramp,
The Searchers,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Drexciya,
Rosa Yemen,
Henry Cow,
Eden Ahbez,
John Lydon,
Graham Central Station,
Anakelly,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Residents,
Neil Young,
Jeff Mills,
The Buckinghams,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.