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 Ivory Coast and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Steve Hackett to the crunk 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 La Düsseldorf. All the underground hits.
All Glenn Branca tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flash Fearless record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s 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 Derrick May record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cecil Taylor,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Man Eating Sloth,
Howard Jones,
The Young Rascals,
Yellowson,
Wally Richardson,
Sam Rivers,
Terrestrial Tones,
A Certain Ratio,
Crime,
Al Stewart,
Lalo Schifrin,
Cluster,
Pussy Galore,
Bobby Sherman,
Eddi Front,
Royal Trux,
Thompson Twins,
Monolake,
Popol Vuh,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pulsallama,
Dual Sessions,
Accadde A,
Ice-T,
Scion,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Man Parrish,
Sun Ra,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Make Up,
John Cale,
Sex Pistols,
Whodini,
Marvin Gaye,
Quando Quango,
Pantytec,
Joe Smooth,
The Litter,
Bobbi Humphrey,
X-101,
Jeru the Damaja,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Fire Engines,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Barry Ungar,
Max Romeo,
June Days,
Alphaville,
John Foxx,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Mantronix,
Pharoah Sanders,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Remains,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Gun Club,
Buzzcocks,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.