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 Honduras and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Electric Prunes to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Faraquet. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every La Düsseldorf record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eli Mardock,
Blake Baxter,
The Mojo Men,
Quantec,
The Fugs,
Sugar Minott,
Drive Like Jehu,
Icehouse,
Livin' Joy,
The Residents,
Whodini,
the Normal,
Bill Wells,
UT,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Glenn Branca,
Pierre Henry,
The Smiths,
Babytalk,
Charles Mingus,
Mr. Review,
Marshall Jefferson,
Infiniti,
Echospace,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Black Pus,
Newcleus,
Oblivians,
Minor Threat,
KRS-One,
Mantronix,
Los Fastidios,
Terry Callier,
Kenny Larkin,
Jandek,
The Neon Judgement,
Lucky Dragons,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sight & Sound,
Pantaleimon,
Intrusion,
Silicon Teens,
The Mummies,
The Zeros,
Warren Ellis,
The Skatalites,
Grauzone,
The Fortunes,
Ornette Coleman,
The Buckinghams,
CMW,
DJ Style,
The Young Rascals,
Unwound,
The Moleskins,
Moss Icon,
Eurythmics,
Cymande,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Joey Negro,
Matthew Halsall,
Gichy Dan,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.