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 Russia and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Fort Wilson Riot to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Kerri Chandler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Terry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Five Americans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Five Americans,
The Selecter,
Tommy Roe,
The Neon Judgement,
Kerri Chandler,
Dorothy Ashby,
Harmonia,
Bauhaus,
Minutemen,
The Buckinghams,
ABC,
the Soft Cell,
Cameo,
Girls At Our Best!,
Monks,
Barrington Levy,
Banda Bassotti,
Tres Demented,
John Lydon,
Amon Düül,
DJ Sneak,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Patti Smith,
Susan Cadogan,
John Coltrane,
Unwound,
Heaven 17,
Thee Headcoats,
Public Image Ltd.,
Talk Talk,
The Fire Engines,
Half Japanese,
Bill Near,
The J.B.'s,
Barbara Tucker,
Infiniti,
Mantronix,
Graham Central Station,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Velvet Underground,
Lebanon Hanover,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
World's Most,
Delta 5,
Au Pairs,
U.S. Maple,
Pierre Henry,
Henry Cow,
Cheater Slicks,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Depeche Mode,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sparks,
Minor Threat,
Dave Gahan,
Yazoo,
The Walker Brothers,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ice-T,
Organ,
Nico,
Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science.
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.