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 Croatia and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Philadelphia.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe 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 The Dead C to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Stockholm Monsters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bizarre Inc. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Maleditus Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camouflage,
The Litter,
Quadrant,
Archie Shepp,
Tom Boy,
Reagan Youth,
Gang Starr,
Interpol,
Marc Almond,
Alice Coltrane,
Alison Limerick,
The Invisible,
Peter and Kerry,
Swell Maps,
Nils Olav,
Chris Corsano,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Shadows of Knight,
Sparks,
X-Ray Spex,
Juan Atkins,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
June of 44,
8 Eyed Spy,
Eurythmics,
Deakin,
Delta 5,
World's Most,
The Real Kids,
Pharoah Sanders,
Henry Cow,
Brick,
LL Cool J,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Shuggie Otis,
Dual Sessions,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
K-Klass,
Los Fastidios,
The Black Dice,
Drexciya,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Blues Magoos,
10cc,
Erasure,
48th St. Collective,
Bobby Byrd,
Make Up,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Zero Boys,
The Five Americans,
Yaz,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Alphaville,
Neu!,
Mark Hollis,
Bauhaus,
The Fall,
Hot Snakes,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.