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 Namibia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sisters of Mercy to the rap 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 Can. All the underground hits.
All Sixth Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eden Ahbez 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drexciya record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June of 44,
The Selecter,
Bobby Womack,
Pere Ubu,
Minny Pops,
Mark Hollis,
Accadde A,
X-101,
Parry Music,
Johnny Clarke,
Neu!,
Can,
Zapp,
Dual Sessions,
Lou Reed,
Supertramp,
Marc Almond,
James White and The Blacks,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Divine Comedy,
Scott Walker,
Main Source,
The Offenders,
Scrapy,
The Toasters,
The Raincoats,
Altered Images,
Bobby Sherman,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Kerri Chandler,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Ituana,
Tres Demented,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Roxette,
Derrick May,
Hardrive,
The Sonics,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Spandau Ballet,
Darondo,
New Age Steppers,
Black Moon,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Eddi Front,
Pantytec,
Cybotron,
Dead Boys,
Dave Gahan,
The Beau Brummels,
Byron Stingily,
K-Klass,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Hasil Adkins,
Rufus Thomas,
Electric Prunes,
Grey Daturas,
Ronan,
Average White Band,
Jesper Dahlback,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.