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 Stockholm.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 theremin 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 The Blues Magoos to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Pere Ubu. All the underground hits.
All The Cramps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Model 500 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
Cluster,
Thee Headcoats,
Agent Orange,
Patti Smith,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
U.S. Maple,
Howard Jones,
Dave Gahan,
Ronan,
Jeff Mills,
Parry Music,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Quadrant,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Yaz,
Dark Day,
Suicide,
Accadde A,
The Dave Clark Five,
Jandek,
The Moleskins,
Youth Brigade,
Moebius,
Tim Buckley,
Scrapy,
Jerry's Kids,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Human League,
Funky Four + One,
Josef K,
The Selecter,
Sällskapet,
10cc,
Pere Ubu,
AZ,
New Order,
Juan Atkins,
Boz Scaggs,
Franke,
Sex Pistols,
Barry Ungar,
Dawn Penn,
Alison Limerick,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Glambeats Corp.,
Marvin Gaye,
Leonard Cohen,
The Fuzztones,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Mummies,
Kool Moe Dee,
Siglo XX,
Sonic Youth,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Doobie Brothers,
Banda Bassotti,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.